Camp Hetalia
by Teenage Mouse
Summary: Arthur attends Camp Hetalia and grudgingly becomes friends with the obnoxious Alfred F. Jones. Then gets a crush on him, because he just can't help it. Written for the Summer Camp event on the USUK community over on LiveJournal. Human names used.
1. Music

When Arthur discovered that his iPod was very much _not_ where he had left it, his immediate thought was: Alfred fucking Jones.

Then, in an effort to not be so cynical and suspicious, he decided to think about it a bit more before letting himself jump to conclusions. Had he left it somewhere else and simply forgotten? Did he lend it to someone? Could somebody _else_ other than Jones have stolen it?

But even after a moment of clemency, he _knew_ that there could only be one person behind this.

Ever since he had arrived at Camp Hetalia, Alfred Jones had been making it his personal mission to torture the English boy. He had thought it couldn't get any worse than the relentless hounding he had suffered on Jones' birthday (the bloody git acting as if _he_ was the one responsible for winning the war of independence, and treating Arthur as some sort of evil monster just for being English) - but the bastard had really outdone himself with that food fight against him a few days ago.

All in all, Alfred had made it a pretty shitty first week at summer camp. _And only three more weeks to go… _Arthur thought as he left his cabin in search of his iPod's new owner.

Why Alfred felt the need to pull pranks and pick on him so persistently was something that Arthur hadn't bothered thinking about – Jones was just a fucking prick, that seemed to be all there was to it. His behaviour wasn't particularly spiteful, in fact it rather screamed 'elementary school playground'. So Arthur was sure that Jones had taken the iPod just to be annoying, rather than to cause him any serious trouble, and that the case of the missing mp3 player would be easily solved once he could locate that insufferable American dipshit.

Gilbert pointed him in the direction that Alfred had apparently skipped off to not ten minutes ago, and Arthur found the tall, blonde boy sitting on the hard wooden floor of one of the other cabins – earbuds in, and scrolling through the songs on Arthur's iPod with a worryingly intense look of concentration on his face.

Arthur stormed over, yanked the cords from his ears and snatched the iPod from Alfred's hands, as the other boy flailed in surprise and made a grab to get the device back.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur demanded, though by day 8 of summer camp he was too tired of yelling at Jones to actually raise his voice that much. "It's one thing to pretend to start a food fight with your friends just as an excuse to pelt me with rubbish, but to actually _steal_ from me! If you touch my stuff again, Jones, so help me God – "

Alfred waved his hands frantically, looking genuinely surprised that Arthur was annoyed at having his property stolen. "Dude! Calm down!" he exclaimed, shifting to kneel on the floor. "I was totally gonna give it back! I just wanted to see what songs were in your top 25!"

Arthur stared. Apparently he had underestimated the boy - Jones clearly had some pretty decent ideas on how to be a complete douchebag. No doubt he had been hoping to find some embarrassing songs on Arthur's iPod, so he could tell all the other campers, and make Arthur's life a living, humiliating hell.

It was a brand of psychological bullying Arthur actually hadn't expected of the American teenager. So far it had all been rather straightforward, physical stuff, with a bit of teasing thrown in for good measure – things that Arthur could handle. And Arthur _was_ the new kid, after all – since all the other boys had been coming to Camp Hetalia every summer for years – so he had fully expected to be given a hard time when he first arrived.

But this genuine attempt to humiliate him, to ruin his chances of making any friends for the next three weeks – it just didn't seem fair. It was like Alfred had a personal problem with him, but Arthur had no idea what he was supposed to have done to deserve such treatment. They had barely spoken outside of Alfred's teasing and Arthur's raging – and neither of those could really be considered 'speaking.'

The idea that Jones wasn't just being a dumb bully but actually wanted to make Arthur unhappy made the English boy embarrassingly upset. Luckily, he was an expert at hiding renegade emotions behind anger, so he heaved a deep breath in preparation for an impressive rant, opened his mouth and –

"I'm sorry! You can see mine if you want? I just wanted to know what kind of music you liked. In England. And to see if you had any embarrassing songs on there. But you don't even have a top 25. What's that about?"

Not only Alfred's genuinely apologetic face but the appeasing offer of his own iPod rather bowled Arthur over. It was a complete reversal of the way Alfred had been treating him for the past seven and a half days. Was he supposed to buy it? Was it a trap to get him to lower his defences just to humiliate him further?

Never one to let himself get distracted when he was in a temper, Arthur decided to latch on to the second half of Alfred's little speech.

"So you _were_ trying to use it to embarrass me! What is your _problem_, Jones? What did I _ever_ do to you? I'm so _sorry_ I came to camp and had to interrupt your annual routine and intrude on your group of friends. You're 17 – get over it, you're acting like a fucking infant! I don't want to have to go to the Camp Counsellors, but if you're going to start stealing my fucking stuff then – "

"Dude, dude! I'm sorry! Okay?"

_ He did look genuinely bad about it… No! His behaviour was starting to get worse! If he let this go then he would practically be giving Jones the okay to keep going with his bloody – _

Alfred, not waiting to find out if Arthur was going to keep yelling, jumped up and rummaged under his pillow, pulling out a tangled knot of earbuds and his iPod. He shoved it at Arthur.

"Here, you can look at mine, then we're even." He sat down on the edge of his bed and watched Arthur expectantly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred, not sure if this really was getting 'even.' But he decided it was better than anything he'd managed to get against the American so far, so he turned on the device and began scrolling through the playlists.

"Why do you only have crap songs on your iPod?" He held up the device for Alfred to see, and raised an eyebrow. "Miley Cyrus? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It has USA in the title. It's, like, obligatory that I put it on there," Alfred said, looking pointedly away from Arthur at the bedcovers.

"Taylor Swift?"

"You're wearing a sweater vest!" Alfred countered.

Deciding not to get into one of the more ridiculous arguments he would probably ever be in, Arthur chucked the iPod onto the bed next to Alfred, turned on his heel and headed for the open door of the cabin.

"Hey…" Arthur's body stopped, despite his brain's best efforts to get him to ignore the boy behind him. "I didn't start that food fight just as an excuse to gang up on you."

Arthur's eyebrows performed a complicated dance of trying to simultaneously knit together and raise themselves in surprise and disbelief. Not only the topic, but the uncharacteristically hesitant way Alfred was speaking was a bit…odd.

"I mean, I _did_, but it wasn't just to be a douche. I just wanted you to know you were part of the group."

Arthur turned is head slightly so he could see Alfred standing behind him out of the corner of his eye. Alfred took this a cue to continue. "'Cause you're new and stuff," he attempted oh, so eloquently to explain. "And I wanted to make sure you didn't feel all left out. It must be hard, since we've all been friends for so long and you just showed up and you don't know anyone. So I wanted to let you know you're one of us, so you don't feel awkward."

Despite Arthur's best efforts to remain pissed off, Alfred's little speech actually made him incredibly happy. He had been avoiding really getting to know anyone all week – mostly because Alfred's actions seemed to imply that nobody wanted him around. He had been anticipating a very lonely July.

But if the very actions which had made him think nobody liked him were meant to show he was included…maybe he could start making friends?

Whatever the case, he couldn't let Alfred know that he had made him feel better. Jones was still a moron, and Arthur certainly had no intentions of making friends with _him_.

"You're a complete moron," Arthur declared and left the cabin, iPod safely in hand.

* * *

><p>AN: If you haven't been to the Special Relationship community on LiveJournal - GO CHECK IT OUT! It's totally fun!  
>I'd never written a fanfic before (just made them up in my head, but never actually wrote anything down) - but they give you themes every day and there's prizes and other people do so such awesome work, and I wanted to join in, too!<p>

I was at Anime Expo for the first week of the Summer Camp event, so I missed out on the first seven days' worth of themes. The food fight thing and mentions of Fourth of July were my vague ideas for what I would have written for the themes last week.

I have no beta, because these are just written quickly every day so I can post them before the theme changes (part of the competition element - there's a time limit).

So yeah. Here's my contribution to the Summer Camp event: a little AU about a summer camp and a couple of oblivious blondes.

And just so we're clear: I don't own Hetalia.


	2. Gardening

Arthur couldn't figure it out. Kiku seemed to be sane, unlike the majority of the teens at Camp Hetalia. He was quiet, sensible, interesting to talk to, intelligent, and could be rather witty in a very subtle way which the English boy thought must go over everyone else's heads.

But he also seemed to be Jones' best friend…

They were the weirdest duo Arthur had ever seen. 'Polar opposites' barely even began to describe it.

At first, Arthur thought that Jones must be dragging poor Kiku around against his own free will. Somehow, the nice Japanese boy had been roped into pairing up with the loud, obnoxious jock for a camp activity or something, and was desperately waiting until Alfred left him alone – that was what Arthur thought.

But…apparently not. The few campers with whom Arthur was on speaking terms had told him that nope, they were like that all the time. Bffs. Kiku didn't necessarily join in with all Alfred's antics, but he was always there.

It was downright bizarre.

Arthur desperately (in the least pathetic way possible) wanted to befriend the Japanese boy, but if it meant drawing attention from Jones then he would just leave it. There were plenty of other people to hang out with, after all.

He had found out from Jones yesterday that the other campers _did_ actually want to make friends with him, so when he woke up that morning Arthur decided to be…nice. He would make an effort, and hopefully he could find some friends.

By the afternoon he was back to his usual grumpy, belligerent self, of course - but it had sort of worked, nonetheless. People didn't seem to mind when he acted like himself, since the other campers could hardly be called perfect themselves. Francis, in particular, had been eager (perhaps a little _too_eager) to make friends when it appeared that Arthur was finally ready to open up, and was quick to invite Arthur to hang out with him and his two friends at lunch.

All in all, Arthur thought, as he sat on his usual log in front of the burned out campfire, things were starting to look up.

"Iggy!"

_Fuck my life._

"Whatcha readin'?"

It really hadn't been Kiku's fault. If he'd known Alfred would latch on to the 'Igirisu' thing and turn it into a horrendous nickname, Kiku would have kept his mouth shut, Arthur was sure of it. It had just been an accident, and Arthur didn't hold it against him. Jones, on the other hand…

"If you call me 'Iggy' one more time, Jones, I swear to God – "

"Dude, it's a nickname. Everyone needs a nickname, but you won't let me call you 'Artie' – "

"Because I have a fucking name!"

"Dude, you need to calm down!" Alfred was always telling him that. When was he going to realise that he was the one causing Arthur to stress out? "You wanna be on my team for the nature hike?"

"What?" Arthur's fists unclenched in his shock and he whipped his head round to stare up at Alfred.

"A nature hike'll calm you down. It's all looking at trees and flowers and stuff. Really relaxing. You wanna be on my team, with me and Kiku?"

Arthur was surprised and touched for about two seconds, and then he fell back on suspicion, which seemed much more appropriate. Jones must want to keep him close on the nature hike because he was planning something…

He narrowed his eyes up at the tall blonde boy, whose usual inane grin was plastered on to this face – oblivious to any reason why Arthur should not immediately jump at his offer.

_Go with Jones and keep an eye on him…Go with someone else and risk being ambushed…But if he went with Jones it would be easier to have the other boy do something bad to him…But he could make friends with Kiku…_

"Alright. When is – "

"Sweet! Come on!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's book, amid violent protests, and chucked it on a nearby log bench, amid even violenter protests. Then he led Arthur over to the dining cabin, where they found the other campers already gathered to get the instructions for their nature hike from Counsellor Roma.

Each team of three was equipped with a map of the area, for orienteering, and a booklet containing a dozen or so riddles.

This didn't look good…

As usual with all the activities at Camp Hetalia, the hike was not simply for fun. Not only would they be learning about different plants and trees, but there was an element of competition involved, too.

"Whichever group can find the most plants on the list will get 30 points for their team, _and_ get to choose what we have for dinner tomorrow," explained Counsellor Roma. "It can even be take-out."

"HOLY SHIT!"

Arthur wasn't the only to stare at Alfred at his sudden outburst. The intense look on his face was genuinely scary – Arthur could swear he actually saw flames in his eyes.

"When do we start?" Alfred cried.

There was a bit of organisation involved, with each team being pointed in a different direction to begin their hike, so that they didn't all end up going the same way at the same time. But very shortly, Arthur found himself wandering down a little shaded path away from camp, with Alfred and Kiku in front of him.

"Duuude! McDonald's! Can you imagine? I haven't had take-out in soooo long!"

"It's been five days, Al-kun," Kiku corrected him gently. "You convinced Counsellor Roma to go and get you some McDonald's on your birthday."

"But he came back with pizza! That doesn't count!" Alfred wailed. "Anyway, as captain of Team Alpha Dog we have to make sure we win! We need those thirty points."

The current trio were not the only members of Team Alpha Dog. The thirty or so campers were split into four teams, who compete against each other in almost every activity at Camp Hetalia – whether it was debate in the morning or football in the afternoon. Alfred was, of course, captain of Team Alpha Dog (no guesses as to who named the team), and being a self-proclaimed 'hero' was very absorbed in winning as many camp competitions as possible. For the nature hike they had been split up into smaller groups, so there was more chance that one of them might win this activity. Of course, that meant there was an even stronger possibility that one of the many other teams could beat them at this scavenger hunt of sorts, and Alfred was _not_ going to lose out on his McDonald's.

"Okay. So. These riddles." Alfred said, helpfully.

They three boys stopped on the worn forest path, sunlight filtering through the foliage above them and leaving a dappled pattern wherever it touched. Kiku held up the booklet and frowned.

" 'Care and caution you should take

If my acquaintance you dare make.

My bite is bad, my fire is worst,

And only riches quench my thirst.' "

...

"Whaaaaat the fuck?" asked Alfred, looking like a lost puppy. Kiku continued to stare intently at the riddle, trying to work it out.

Arthur thought he had a good idea of what it meant, but he felt slightly nervous about joining in with the group. Still, he was rather eager to impress Kiku.

"Do you think it could it be 'snapdragon?'"

Kiku looked up with curiosity and interest, and Alfred just stared at him. "What?" the other blonde asked.

"Well, um…'snapdragon' is the name of a flower," Arthur explained, hesitantly. It had suddenly occurred to him that he may be completely wrong and making a massive fool of himself. "Maybe the riddles tell us what flowers and plants we're supposed to be looking for. I mean, otherwise how do we know what we're supposed to be taking pictures of? There's nothing in the booklet, just a bunch of riddles. Right?"

Kiku looked down at the pages of riddles and nodded slowly. "That does make sense," he agreed. "In fact, this next riddle seems to follow the same pattern.

'You'll need me in your darkest hour,

Though I may be a lowly flower.

My cousin, white, from Juno born,

We both shed light before the morn.'

This could be a torch lily, don't you think?"

Arthur practically beamed at him. "Yes, that makes perfect sense!" he said, delightedly, so happy to have proven himself and helped Kiku.

Kiku smiled warmly at Arthur's enthusiasm, and the two of them stood there, going through the booklet and working out the plants and trees for each riddle. It was more fun than Arthur had had yet at Camp Hetalia, and he suddenly felt so hopeful and excited for the next two weeks.

So hopeful and excited…because he had actually forgotten all about Alfred F. Jones.

Suddenly, though, he felt an arm slung round his shoulder and he tensed again. "You guys are so smart!" Alfred grinned, giving Arthur a one-armed squeeze. "I never would have got any of that." Arthur shrugged him off, fists clenched, and Alfred laughed. "I knew it was a good idea to have you on my team, Artie," he added, as they headed off down the path again, going deeper into the woods.

Suddenly it all clicked.

"You knew!" Arthur accused, slowing down for a moment before speeding up and prodding Alfred in the back. "You knew we were going to have to work out the names of flowers! That's why you asked me to join your group!" he shouted, anger building up that he had been tricked before they'd even started the stupid hike.

"Yeah, I might have snuck in to the counsellor's cabin and done some snooping, " Alfred admitted, looking uninterestedly at the trees around them. "I'm captain of Team Alpha Dog, I have to make sure my team has every advantage we can."

"That's cheating."

"All's fair in love and war," Alfred countered.

Arthur scoffed. "Well this is neither. It's bloody summer camp."

"Shows what you know," Alfred grinned over his shoulder at him. "Summer camp is both."

Arthur fought down an angry blush – Alfred sure was being intolerably stupid today.

"What made you think I would just automatically _know_ all about flowers," Arthur insisted, following even closer behind the American, hoping he might feel intimidated by the bristling irritation radiating off of the shorter boy. "Do I look like a sodding girl? You think that just because I'm English I – "

"I just _thought_," Alfred interrupted, as he so often tended to do, "'cause you're so smart, you might know about this kind of stuff. I see you reading a lot, and it's not always fiction. I just had a feeling you'd be able to do it." There was a moment where Arthur almost let the flattery sink in. "…And, to be fair, you _did_ know the name of all the flowers in the riddles."

Arthur felt like he might explode. Surely there was no way his body could contain this much anger. And since there were no camp counsellors around, now seemed to be a pretty good opportunity to really let Jones have it.

With a frustrated cry that sounded something like "RAGH!", he launched himself at Jones' back, with the intent of beating that stupid smirk right off his smug little arrogant douchebaggy pillocking face.

But, in his temper, Arthur hadn't noticed that their little forest path now sloped down into a ditch. So when he barrelled into Alfred, he knocked them straight into a very awkward situation. Before either of them could register that they were airborne, they were crashing back down to earth, and with no way of stopping themselves, rolling all the way to the bottom of the ditch.

Confused, sore, and hopelessly tangled, they lay for a minute trying to gain their bearings and figure out what the hell just happened.

"Al-kun, Arthur-san?" Kiku's voice called from somewhere above them. "If it makes you feel any better, you've just found about half the flowers we needed for the scavenger hunt."

The two blondes sat up awkwardly, Alfred rubbing his head, and Arthur on his hands and knees with Jones half laying underneath him. Looking around somewhat dazedly, they discovered that they had, indeed, landed in what was hardly less than a sea of flowers – all shapes, sizes and colours.

Arthur glanced sideways at Alfred, whose stupid, sunny grin matched the backdrop of warm, yellow flowers around him. Arthur felt a swell of frustration rise in him again.

He groaned and stood up, kicking Alfred in the leg for good measure before trying to get himself the hell out of there.

He hoped that since Kiku managed to stay friends with an idiot like Alfred, perhaps he wouldn't mind Arthur's occasional rage-induced indiscretions, which he had been so kind as to demonstrate just now.

If not, it was all Jones' fault that Kiku didn't like him.

I mean, if Jones insisted on doing stupid things like showering an unsuspecting Arthur with an armful of wildflowers and then running away laughing like a madman, then Arthur would have no choice but to chase him around a flowery ditch in the middle of the woods, cursing like a sailor. Even if it made him look like an idiot.

* * *

><p>AN: The story takes place in Colorado, a place I've never been, and I only did minor bits of research. So it's very possible that these flowers do _not_grow there at all, although the Internet told me they did.

And I made up those riddles. I felt so weird sitting there in my room making up riddles about flowers...


	3. Period Piece

"You have _got_ to be shitting me."

Alfred just burst out laughing.

"Dude, you always sound so proper! Even when you're trying to swear. Look, repeat after me: 'you gotta be shitting me!"

"I'm sorry for pronouncing my 't's like 't's instead of 'd's, you giant oaf. Now explain! Nobody told me anything about dressing up!"

"Can we just go back to that 'giant oaf' thing for a second?"

"NO! NOW TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"

Alfred wasn't even trying to contain his laughter anymore, even at the risk of incurring the wrath of the dangerous little British boy. He was already hyper after having to sit relatively still and somewhat quiet on the coach all morning, and teasing Arthur just put him in a good mood. Plus, they were at the awesome historical village the campers came to every year! He knew he was supposed to be on his best and mildest behaviour or Counsellor Legolas would send him back to the coach, but he just couldn't help it. Today was shaping up to be awesome.

Alfred was so busy clutching his sides and tearing up with laughter that it was Kiku who had to explain everything. "We come here every year, Arthur, so I can attest to the fact that it is actually quite fun. Even though we do have to cosplay." Arthur blanched at that word, but he assumed it had something to do with the bundle of pioneer clothes he held in his arms. "Camp Hetalia rents out the entire village, so we have the place to ourselves. After we go to the museum and have lunch, we get to explore Centennial Village and watch the townspeople. I believe they have introduced a cattle drive this year, also."

"Really? SWEET!" cheered Alfred, who had finally managed to pull himself together. "It's awesome, Artie, I promise. I fricking love Centennial Village!"

"You _would_, you overgrown infant," scoffed Arthur, as Counsellor Legolas (which was not his real name, by the way) ushered Team Alpha Dog into the changing rooms.

Arthur spent some time getting into his dark, three piece suit – it looked so…authentic that it made him even more embarrassed than he had anticipated. He was having some trouble with the strange ribbon-like bow tie, a style he had never had to wear before, when someone grabbed his shoulders and spun him round.

"Yeah, this one's weird," said Alfred. "I had to wear it last year when I was the sheriff, so I learned how to tie it."

Arthur was taken aback for a moment by Alfred's get-up. He was dressed as a cowboy, but not in a ridiculous, Halloween-y fashion. The worn shirt, blue jeans, leather waistcoat, dark hat and…the chaps…it seemed to be a style which was much more realistic, though Arthur was hardly an expert on this particular period of history.

Before Arthur could figure out why he was fighting down a blush, he decided to completely derail that train of thought and focus on…anger would probably do the trick.

"Get your hands off me, Jones! I can tie a bloody tie!"

Alfred stepped back, hands in the air in a sign of surrender as Arthur swatted him away and began fumbling with the little black tie.

"Don't forget your little bowler hat, Artie!" said Alfred, slamming the black hat on the shorter boy's head, apparently unable to keep himself from touching and bothering him.

"I can't decide which I like best," mused Alfred, shoving his clothes into one of the lockers of the changing room. "Sherriff or cowboy. I mean, the sheriffs are heroes, but they could be pretty corrupt, since there were no real rules and they just sort of made it up as they went along. And the cowboys weren't always the heroes legend has made them out to be…"

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur, before he could stop himself. Alfred looked over and beamed at him, noticing how interested Arthur was. "It's just…I'm not particularly familiar with this area of history and…I suppose it could be interesting."

"Don't worry, you'll learn all about it at the museum," said Alfred. "Then we can put it into practice at Centennial Village."

Kiku put the finishing touches to his costume by pinning on his sheriff's badge, and then Team Alpha Dog left the changing room and headed over to the museum.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

"Wait a minute, why am I dressed like a stuck-up businessman, and everyone else is in old west gear?"

"Well, obviously you've come to Centennial Village to invest in the lucrative cattle business."

Arthur grumbled, and followed Alfred and the other members of Team Alpha Dog down the dusty path of the quaint historical village. Miguel was jostling that kid whose name Arthur could never remember, teasing him about his neat bartender outfit while Miguel was dressed as a 'macho cowboy'. Heracles the miner and Sheriff Kiku were walking quietly side by side, the Greek boy dragging a pickaxe in the dirt beside him.

"Alright, uhm…partners. It's another beautiful day in Centennial Village. Boy, I sure do love it here. It is my hometown, after all. Why, it feels like just yesterday I arrived here, all the way from Virginia. It was a looong and treacherous journey, that's for sure. I knew it would be dangerous, and ma and pa begged me not to go. But I was determined to set out on my own and join the pioneers in exploring our great, expanding nation and – "

"We get it, Jones. You're in character."

"So, where shall we go first? I have some chores to do at the blacksmith's, myself."

Without really waiting for anyone to agree or offer up their own suggestions, Alfred led them to the blacksmith's shop, a rather dilapidated wooden workshop where they watched horseshoes being made by a man who insisted on talking to the boys as if they were 7.

Then there was the sheriff's office with the telegraph, the jail, the tailor's, the general store – all of which had big fake storefronts and raised wooden sidewalks with hitching posts outside. They even explored the various little houses in the genuine working farm fields, where you could watch men building a well, and pioneer women churning butter and baking and washing clothes the old fashioned way…

As he stood next to a whooping Alfred, watching the cattle drive across an impossibly vast field with the misty, blue mountains in the distance and a sky which seemed much higher than the one back home, Arthur couldn't admit that it wasn't fascinating.

It was so far removed from anything his little island nation had ever gone through; a kind of history England just didn't have. Which was strange to think, since his country was so old; it felt like England should have gone through everything long before America did. Yet here was something England had missed out on.

England seemed to have been around forever – people living and building and developing there for centuries. By the time America was just getting on its feet, England was already heavy with history. The buildings were old, the communities were old, the traditions were old. The people who had always been rich would keep on being rich, the people who had always been poor would keep on being poor. The rules had been in play for a long, long time, and there was no opportunity to change it. The country was already tired.

But America – it must have felt like a fresh start. God, how exciting that must have been, Arthur thought, letting his imagination take him away until he felt like he was really there, in the middle of the old west, when it was new.

The native people hadn't felt the need to change the land around them, like Europeans did, so it was all untouched, unspoilt and new. And coming from a country where everything had been old and worn for a long time already, the idea of a country that was _new_ must have been so…exhilarating. They could make it anything they wanted.

And it was practically empty, too! People didn't even know what was there! England was a small island so there wasn't that much to explore, and nothing had ever needed to be discovered. It had all been done before. But if Arthur had arrived on the east coast of America back in the 19th century, he could have looked out to the west and had no idea what was out there. Imagine!

Even when the east coast was already well underway and prospering, just on the other side of the same country there was nothing at all! It was hilarious and somewhat adorable. Arthur found himself smiling, and feeling nostalgic for a time and place he had never belonged to at all.

Of course, he would never mention to this to the boisterous American boy beside him. No doubt it would have made Jones proud to learn that a stuffy English teenager was coming to appreciate his home country, but Alfred's patriotism was strangely egotistical, so Arthur decided it was best not to mention anything.

He _did_ let himself be steered towards the saloon after the cattle drive, where Alfred excitedly prepared himself for a grand entrance, kicked open the swinging doors, and swaggered in as if he owned the place.

"You again!" cried the portly man behind the bar, stopping mid-way through wiping a glass. "I told you to stop doing that! Every goddamn year!"

"Sorry, partner. But I'm a cowboy and I ain't got no respect for the rules! 'Specially not in a bar. I come here to spend all my hard earned money on drinking and debauchery. You should know that. I mean, I come here every night, don't I?"

"Just sit down, order your drink, and get out," said the bartender, as the six campers sat on stools at the bar and ordered various, pathetically non-alcoholic beverages.

Arthur found himself next to that blonde boy whose name he couldn't remember, having been careful to stay well away from Alfred when he was acting like such a moron.

The boy looked nervous and on edge, his pale, grey-purple eyes glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds.

"Something wrong?" asked Arthur.

"Um, well, it's just that we haven't run into any of the others yet," the other almost whispered. He switched between fiddling with his glasses and anxiously twirling his hair.

"You mean the others campers?"

"Mm," the boy nodded, now busying his hands with the condensation on his glass of apple juice. "Usually Al spends most of our visits to Centennial Village using the Code of the West as an excuse to fight the other camp teams."

"'The Code of the West'?" Arthur repeated.

The quiet boy nodded. "It's this code of conduct they used to have in the Old West. They said if you were attacked you could fight back. In Britain the rule was that you were supposed to retreat unless you were absolutely cornered. But out here, if someone tried anything, you could fight to the death if you wanted, and you wouldn't get in trouble for murder."

Arthur had no trouble picturing Alfred making full use of this Code of the West to wreak havoc in the heart of a historical old west village. It seemed to be just his thing. Arthur joined the other boy in becoming very nervous about seeing any of the other campers. It felt like they really were in the dangerously lawless Wild West, waiting to be attacked by bandits at any moment.

It was such a big park they hadn't run into anyone else after they all split up into their teams after lunch. But surely it was only a matter of time…

Alfred insisted on visiting the candy store over the road, and for once his teammates looked just as excited as him.

"It's seriously the best candy store in the world!" Alfred explained, as they all paid the bartender. "I mean, they didn't exactly have full on candy stores out here in the 1800s; it's more of a souvenir shop. But they have all this old timey food, and their rock candy is friggin' awesome!"

They slid off their bar stools and headed out into the dusty main street, Alfred making sure to push the saloon doors open dramatically as they stepped out into the sun.

"You! Cowboy!"

"Oh…maple," Arthur heard the nameless blonde boy mutter beside him.

Team Alpha Dog looked up as one to see Gilbert Beilschmidt standing in the middle of Main Street, hands on hips and an impressively smug look on his face.

Alfred squared off against his opponent. "Whadda ya want you…What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm obviously a bandit, you retard!" said Gilbert, pulling his bandana up over his mouth and glaring at Alfred, the excited twinkle in his eyes visible even from a few feet away. Cearly, there was going to be some sort of ritual showdown…

"Well, whadda ya want? You know Kiku's the sheriff – you should probably be picking a fight with _him_ if you're a bad guy." Kiku looked at his friend in horror, and took a step closer to Heracles, who tightened his grip on his miner's pickaxe. "I'm a cowboy," Alfred added, proudly jabbing his thumb into his puffed out chest. "If you have a problem with me, I have no problem kicking your ass."

"Woah, who said I had a problem?" asked Gilbert, raising his hands in a placating gesture and widening his eyes innocently. "I just – oh, fuck it." He yanked the bandana back down to his neck, obviously annoyed at having to talk through the fabric. "I just need a bit of extra cash. Life's rough out here, and I need to buy shiny things for my whores."

"Oh, God," Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. He even started tapping his foot to show just how sick and tired he was of this whole charade. If they were going to fight, just bloody fight – he wished they would shut up with the poor 'Wild West' routine.

"Then get a job, dipshit," Alfred smirked. "Or do you have to steal and cheat your way through life 'cause you're not cut out to live in such an awesome, dangerous land?"

"You don't know shit about awesome!" Gilbert practically shrieked. Obviously, Alfred had struck a nerve. "I am totally cut out to live here! But you see, my troubles date back to the civil war. There I was, fighting awesomely and being a total hero, " (Alfred bristled) "but I was betrayed by my own – "

"Nobody cares about your bloody backstory!" Arthur cried. Honestly, what was it with the kids at Camp Hetalia and their obsession with keeping in-character. "If you're going to have a showdown just get it over with. This is just embarrassing. You're 17, for God's sake!"

"Now, now, gov'nor, there'll be no need for a showdown," Gilbert smirked.

Team Alpha Dog widened their eyes in unison. "There won't?" Alfred asked disappointedly, sounding slightly pathetic.

"Not if the rich British guy comes with us."

Again, there was a heart-warming moment of team unity as they all asked "What?"

"We just wanna talk," Gilbert reassured, taking a step forwards. "I hear you're looking to invest in a cattle ranch and I wanted to offer you a business proposition. My outlaws and I are looking to turn over a new leaf and we'd be the most awesome ranchmen ever! You can totally trust us."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur decided to stop this ridiculous game in its tracks.

After all, what was Gilbert going to get out of Arthur joining his team for the next half an hour or so before they had to go back to the coach? He didn't really see how this could go anywhere bad. In fact, Gilbert probably expected Arthur to refuse so that he had an excuse to fight Alfred. If Arthur accepted, he was sure to be calling Gilbert's bluff.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

"Artie, no way!" Alfred cried, grabbing Arthur's arm in both his hands. "He's a bandit! You can't trust him! I don't know what he's up to, but it can't be good!"

"Alfred, honestly! It's not the Old West, he's not really an outlaw, and I only have 12¢ on me! What could he possibly do?"

Arthur yanked his arm out of Alfred's grip and walked up to Gilbert. Then she promptly crossed his arms and stared expectantly at the smug albino. "Well?"

"Alright, men. Attack!"

Suddenly, there were people everywhere. Gilbert barrelled into Alfred and knocked him flat on his back into the dirt road. Antonio jumped down off the low roof over the entrance of the saloon and dashed over to Miguel, whom he promptly started attacking with his knees. Ludwig appeared from his hiding place behind a barrel beside of the door of the saloon. He seemed a little less enthusiastic than the others, as he plodded over and grabbed Kiky lightly by the arm. Lovino raced out from the candy store and joined the fray, calling to Feliciano who only left his hiding place behind the window display in the store to go up to the counter and order candy.

But Arthur only had a moment to register all of this before he found himself grabbed around the waist and carried off down Main Street over somebody's shoulder.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? PUT ME DOWN YOU FUCKING TWAT!"

Arthur vaguely heard his name being called, but was too preoccupied kicking and flailing against his mystery assailant to pay much attention to whether someone actually cared that he was being abducted.

As the kidnapper rounded the corner of the last store on Main Street, he shouted "Go, go, go!" and Arthur saw a blur as half a dozen more campers dressed in Old West clothes dashed past him. Then he felt himself being passed over into much bigger and stronger arms. "Be careful, 'e's a lot 'eavier zan 'e looks."

It was a very French voice.

"I WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR FUCKING SLEEP!" Arthur shouted. Then he was moving again and found himself being jostled around too much to shout threats properly.

He repositioned himself so he could see what was going on. It was now Ivan carrying him, holding him firmly in a fireman's lift so that Arthur couldn't kick his legs. And Ivan seemed oblivious to the punches Arthur was hammering against his back and shoulders. To be honest, he was hardly surprised – the Russian boy was a tank, and rather daunting to look at it.

Francis, his original kidnapper it seemed, was running ahead across the empty grassland behind the stores, and Arthur had no idea what he could possibly be planning now.

Ivan wasn't even _in_ Team Awesome Tomato Amour (Francis's team at Camp Hetalia), so it was obvious that their two groups had united in order to orchestrate this attack against Team Alpha Dog. The blur of people Arthur had seen running past him when he was handed over to Ivan must have been the other members of Ivan's team: Yao, Yong Soo, Toris and the others. Had Francis enlisted them to help keep Team Alpha Dog from chasing after Arthur?

The more he thought about it, the more anxious Arthur became. Clearly he had once again underestimated how fucking ridiculous the boys at this camp could be. He really needed to stop doing that, since they seemed able to out-do themselves every fricking day…

"Where are we going?" Arthur finally asked resignedly, as Ivan jogged over the flat ground after Francis.

"The train tracks. We have to hurry. The last train leaves soon."

"…What?"

Arthur craned his neck to see in the direction they were going, and sure enough, a miniature railroad was set up a little way ahead.

_Ooooh, this could not be good._

Finally they reached the train tracks, and Ivan rolled Arthur off his shoulders so he landed on both feet. This seemed foolish as it gave Arthur the opportunity to run away; Ivan may be bigger than him, but Arthur was sure he was faster.

But he had only a split second to register that he was standing upright before Francis grabbed him round the middle yet again.

Arthur looked down and found a rope being wound about his stomach over and over again, binding his arms to his sides.

He turned to look at Francis and raised an impressively large eyebrow at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Haven't you seen old movies?" asked Francis, who was concentrating on tying him up properly.

"Old movies haven't been invented yet," Arthur countered.

"Ha ha," the French boy said sarcastically. "We'll see how clever you are when you're about to get run over by the train. I bet you'll be screaming like a little girl!"

"Francis, they are not going to let a park guest get run over by a train," Arthur sighed. "Isn't it manned or something?"

"Non!" smiled Francis. "This is a model railroad, not a ride. It's all automatic; just a scaled down version of one they used to have out here, for real history enthusiasts. If you are interested, the proper steam train you can ride is over on the other side of the park."

"Wha – but…What about health and safety!"

"The wonderful thing about health and safety is that they always need one bad accident before they fix it so that there's no way people can get hurt. And you're going to be the brave pioneer and show them how poorly this railroad is set up."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You're…you're lying!"

"I would definitely be lying if it weren't true. But luckily I don't have to."

Arthur squirmed as Francis finished with the last knot at his back. They didn't seem to be tied very well, but there were enough of them that Arthur just couldn't get out of the ropes.

Ivan stepped forward from where he had been watching the proceedings, and forcefully lay Arthur down on the tracks. He held Arthur firmly in place, despite the British boy's best efforts, as Francis genuinely and oh so absurdly tied him to the miniature railroad tracks like the villain in a black and white silent movie.

"By the way," added Francis as he and Ivan stepped back and looked down at the struggling teenager. "I'm the only one who can stop the train."

"H-how?" stammered Arthur, starting to panic.

"Well, I have Ivan," explained Francis, reaching up to slap the huge boy on the shoulder.

Arthur's eyes hurt from being so wide. "You _honestly_ can't do this to me. You know that, right?"

"If we can't, why are you so scared?" Francis grinned down.

"I – I'm not! Fine, I'll just lay here. If you think you're going to get a good show out of this you will be sorely disappointed, Bonnefoy!"

Francis laughed and stepped aside next to Ivan, so that if Arthur raised his head he had a clear view across the grass towards the backs of the stores on Main Street.

From his position on the ground he really couldn't see the rest of the train tracks, but he knew that it was just a small circle, with a tree on the island of grass in the middle.

Waiting for the whistle of the train to start had to be more agonising than actually hearing it, Arthur thought. God, he hoped his face didn't betray how concerned he was.

_Keep calm and carry on_, he chanted in his head. _Just keep calm and carry on. Even if you're about to get run over by a fucking miniature train, keep calm and carry on._

He realised that Francis and Ivan were watching something, and craned his head up painfully so that he could see. It was a person running towards them. A park employee? Please?

But it didn't exactly look like an adult. The only thing he could really make out was that they were dressed like a cowboy.

Oh no.

It couldn't be…Was it…?

Sure enough, Alfred F. fucking Jones skidded to a halt in front of the railroad, looking from Arthur laying tied to the tracks, to Francis and Ivan, and back again.

"I don't get it."

…Arthur was going to die. If this was the only person who had come to save him, somebody up there clearly wanted him dead.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle sounded from behind Arthur's head, and a chugging noise rumbled into life, growing steadily louder and faster.

_Do not beg for help. Don't even ask politely. If you die, you die, but you will not die having asked Jones for help!_

"Dude, not cool!" Alfred exclaimed as he cottoned on. Arthur could see him looking up to where the train must be now, behind that tree, and following the bend of the track to where miniature train and summer camper would finally meet. "You can't kill one of my teammates just so you have more people!"

"For fuck's sake!" Arthur groaned, fists and eyes clenched. "That's not what this is about, Jones!" Although, come to think of it, he had no idea what was going on here at all.

"The rich land baron is right, cowboy. I'm – "

"Don't you fucking dare!" Arthur exploded, wishing his stare was some sort of deadly laser eye power. "Now is not the time!"

"Fine," Francis agreed. "Alfred." He looked seriously at the confused and worried American, obviously about to negotiate some sort of deal. "Throw the camp competitions for the rest of the week, or the British boy gets it."

Arthur felt like crying. He had been so excited to come to Camp Hetalia! A prestigious international summer program that would look so good on his university applications.

Why had nobody told him it was only for psychopathic imbeciles?

"Whatever you say!" Alfred said immediately. "Just stop the goddamn train!"

Arthur didn't know why, but it suddenly seemed very important that he not let Alfred give in so easily.

"No!" he shouted. The other three looked down at him, thoroughly surprised, and Arthur hoped his ridiculous position lying on his back on the ground didn't make him look any less serious.

"But, Artie – "

"Alfred – "

Another whistle, and Arthur realised it was _much_ worse hearing than it had been than anticipating it. Well, you live and learn. Hopefully.

Alfred was looking horror-struck in the direction of the chugging sounds, but the helpless British teen couldn't bring himself to look and see how close the train was.

"If Bonnefoy wants his team to win the camp trophy _this_ badly then don't just let him have it! Make him fight for it." Arthur began. That morning, he couldn't have cared less who won the trophy, but now he was determined that Team Awesome Tomato Amour should _not_ have the privilege.

Alfred was staring down at him as if he couldn't believe his ears, though Arthur could hardly blame him. He suddenly felt as if he belonged with the other weirdos at Camp Hetalia, for sacrificing himself over a stupid camp trophy.

"And…And I don't need you to come rescue me!" Arthur added angrily, glancing away from Alfred's face.

This was the more pressing of the reasons he didn't want Alfred to give in to Francis just like that.

If Alfred gave up something as important as the camp trophy just to save him, it made it seem like he really _wanted_ to save Arthur – not just that he was trying to be the hero. And if Arthur let him to do it, it was like saying he _wanted_ Alfred to _want_ to save him… And then it would be as if Alfred liked Arthur and Arthur was fine it with, and Arthur liked Alfred and they both knew it, and for some reason it was very important that Alfred not be allowed to know any of that. Or rather _think_ that. Because it _wasn't_ true.

Even as he lay there staring death in the face, he knew he was being slightly contrary and unreasonable. But as long as he never voiced these thoughts to anyone else, he could live with it. Besides, he had a fool proof argument that would hide his awkward stubbornness.

"Francis won't let me die, and this train couldn't kill me, anyway. It's a sodding toy! I'm calling his bluff." Francis' face fell, much to Arthur's joy. "Besides," he added, with a daring smirk. "He'll get in trouble if I get hurt! It's not like I did this to myself, and there are witnesses."

Alfred glanced over at Francis, not looking altogether convinced.

"I…" Francis stammered, looking around wildly. "Oh, fine! Ivan – "

"It's okay! I got it!" cried Alfred, and he ran over to the miniature train. Arthur's eyes followed him and he watched in sheer disbelief as Alfred pushed his body against the front of the train, and it genuinely stopped. The boy must be stronger than he looked. Or heavier.

Or the train could just be a giant toy, which Arthur was starting to realise more and more as Ivan and Francis untied him and helped him up. He had let himself get waaaay too carried away with the whole 'staring death in the face' thing. Looking at the miniature train now as Alfred stood back from it, he realised it was the slowest, most pathetic excuse for an engine he'd ever seen, and the four of them must have looked utterly ridiculous wrapped up in their little life or death drama of a few moment's ago.

"Artie! I'm so glad you're okay!" Arthur heard, as someone launched into him from the side. Arthur stumbled back, but the strong arms remained tightly enclosed about his shoulders.

"Get off me, you imbecile! I was never in any real danger."

"But that was the coolest thing I've ever seen!" Alfred exclaimed, looking at Arthur with eyes shining in awe. Arthur had to admit, it was nice to be looked at like that. He rarely had a chance to show the other campers how much of a rebel he could be. "You were all 'No, I will sacrifice myself for the good of Team Alpha Dog'! It was so awesome!"

"It was…very heroic of you," Francis admitted, shuffling his feet and looking down at the ground. He raised his eyes bashfully to see if Alfred and Arthur were still angry. They were. "Come on, you knew I wasn't really going to let him get hurt!"

Alfred and Arthur glared at him for all they were worth. "If you ever come near me again, I swear to God – "

"That I will personally end you, and I will enjoy it," Alfred finished for him. "So that you won't get in trouble for committing murder," he smiled at Arthur.

Arthur's face…well, it seemed to want to do lots of things at once. Frowning, smiling, blushing, glaring, blanching…He settled for scowling, and pushed Alfred off him completely so he could storm back to Main Street.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Francis bought all of Team Alpha Dog as much rock candy as they wanted in exchange for their silence, and Arthur had to admit it was pretty damn tasty.

He sat in the very back of the coach next to Alfred, sucking on a strawberry and cream flavoured stick of candy and glaring daggers at the back of Francis' head. Bonnefoy had assured them that he and Ivan were the only ones who knew about the train part of the plan – the other members of their teams had thought it was just one of their regular Code of the West showdowns.

"Isn't it a little strange that they make their guests wear costumes?" asked Arthur, the thought striking him quite suddenly. "How can they have enough clothes for everyone, in all shapes and sizes? And what if they get ruined?"

"Oh, they don't make people wear that get-up," said Alfred, stretching his arms and relaxing back into his seat, a stick of Cola flavoured rock candy hanging out of his mouth. "Counsellor Roma got those clothes for us. We've been to Centennial Village so many times at Camp Hetalia we basically know it as well as the employees. So Roma thought we could just…you know, join in."

Arthur's eye twitched, but he was too exhausted to do anything about his sudden desire to commit homicide. He really needed to start a hit-list to keep track of these things.

* * *

><p>AN: This is based on something that happened to me last year.

JK!

No, I actually just got completely carried away. I honestly have no idea - it just sort of happened.  
>I had not anticipated writing something so absurd for this AU, but I guess I'll just...go with it?<p> 


	4. Games

Today it was raining over Camp Hetalia.

Arthur got up from his place on the bottom bunk and quietly got dressed, as his three cabin mates didn't seem to be stirring yet.

_I wonder how this will affect the camp dynamic_, Arthur thought, as he shrugged on the navy blue camp hoodie. He was sure that any outdoor activities that had been planned could easily be changed to give them something to do inside – it was the leisure time he was wondering about. Twenty-seven boys forced to stay indoors, with no TV, computers, or video game consoles, as such things weren't allowed at Camp Hetalia. He was sure a couple of boys must have brought cards or dice or something, but it was only a matter of time until they ended up killing each other.

_I could blame it on cabin fever…_Arthur mused, an uncanny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. _But who to take out first: Bonnefoy, Braginski, or Jones…_

Suddenly, the door of his cabin burst open so violently that as it swung back and hit the wall, the force of it made the door bounce back and slam shut again. There was a cry of "RAIN – ", before the mystery guest was cut off by the door slamming into his face as he stepped into the doorway. Then there was an "OOOOOW!...OW! OW! OW!" and the door knob turned much more slowly.

A sheepish Alfred poked his head in , clutching his nose. "Artie, the door hit me in the face!"

Arthur found himself falling into the pose his body naturally took when facing Alfred F. Jones: arms crossed, one thick eyebrow raised into his fringe, tapping his foot. "Serves you right for being so inconsiderate. We're trying to sleep in here."

"No you're not. You're all dressed and everything!" Alfred pointed out. Arthur scoffed and looked to the side.

"Is there a reason you decided to barge in like lunatic?"

"Yeah!" smiled Alfred, lowering his hands from his nose to pump his fists excitedly. "Rainy day games!"

"What?" asked Arthur, fearing the answer but still curious nonetheless.

"It's awesome!" explained Alfred, going to examine his nose in the mirror by the door. "Whenever it rains at Camp Hetalia we play 'rainy day games'. There's not much to do when we can't go running around in the forest, so Mattie and Kiku invented this little tournament thing that we can do inside. It goes on all day, and there's all sorts of challenges – and prizes if we ever get round to buying anything. Most of the time we don't, but if it encourages you to play I promise we'll get prizes. You'll join in, right?"

"Who's playing?" asked Arthur, deciding to humour the boy until he could make up his mind as to how deadly it would be to participate.

"Everyone!" said Alfred happily, his eyes shining like the child he was. "All the campers join in! They don't all play every game, since there are so many. But we just see who wants to play each game and then battle it out."

"How do we know who wins if not everyone competes in everything?" Arthur wondered, his competitive side rearing its very ugly head.

"Most of the time, people only join in when they're super bored," Alfred explained, making himself comfortable on Arthur's neatly made bed. "There's only a few of us who actually do every challenge, so we just keep score for ourselves."

"And what sorts of challenges are they?" Arthur finally had to know. If it really was Kiku who had invented these games (and was 'Mattie' that shy blonde boy with glasses?) then they might not be _that_ bad.

"Oh, all kinds! There's cards, dice, paper games, chicken – you can make some up too, if you want. Come on, it's so fun!"

Arthur stood looking down at Alfred's hopeful face appraisingly. "I…suppose I can do a few. When I'm bored."

"YES! This is gonna be so awesome!" Alfred breathed, doing another fist pump. "Okay, now hold out your hand."

Arthur looked at him for a moment before the order registered. He hesitantly held out his hand, palm up. Alfred grabbed it and turned it over, whipping a pen out of his pocket and scribbling something hard on the back of Arthur's hand.

"OW! That's my hand you dipshit! Don't press so hard!"

"Sorry, this pen sucks."

Alfred let go of Arthur's hand, and the shorter boy held it up to examine Jones' work. "'Zap!'" he read aloud, questioningly.

"Rainy day game number one!" Alfred announced proudly, standing up and placing his hands on his hips. "Whenever somebody says your name, you have to immediately tell us something about yourself. Then you can carry on talking normally."

"Why?" Arthur asked, a withering look on his face as he wondered why Alfred would possibly think he would stick to a foolish rule like that.

"Because! That's the game."

"Alright, then, give me your hand," Arthur commanded, reaching out for Alfred's wrist.

"No way!" the other teen laughed, scooting away from Arthur towards the door. "You were dumb enough to give me your hand. And I totally got Mattie and Kiku while they were all groggy and just waking up. If you want to 'zap' my hand, you have to be smarter than that."

Oh, Arthur was going to 'zap' him alright. Stupid bloody arrogant git.

"Okay. So. The games are going on all day. I'll let you know when one of them starts, and ends and stuff. And if you think of any let me know! It would be so cool to add more games in. You're gonna love it, _Aaaartie_."

Arthur frowned at Alfred's expectant stare, wondering if there was something stuck to his face. "What?"

"I said your name. You have to tell me something about you. Something good."

"That isn't my name so I don't have to tell you any – "

"Fine, _Arthur_, nicknames don't count. I can go with that."

Arthur glared and looked down at the floor, wondering what he should say. He was certainly not going to indulge the brat in anything interesting. "I like tea."

"Artie! That's – I mean, _Arthur_, that's lame. Try again."

"I…I've always wanted to come to Camp Hetalia. But it's not what I expected."

Alfred looked shocked, which made Arthur blush in embarrassment. Actually, it was probably irritation. Had that come out wrong? No, it was perfectly neutral. So why was – "

"I wish you could have come here for years like us, too," smiled Alfred. Arthur felt himself, most unfortunately, blushing even more. "But you're here now, so it's all good. And what do you mean it's not what you expected?"

"I'll save that one for later. Now can you please bugger off so I can finish getting ready."

"Sure thing, _Arthur_!"

"I hate you."

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

It was only 9 o' clock. 9 o'clock in the bloody morning and he was already on challenge number six.

Arthur was starting to rue the day (well, today) when he had agreed to this stupid tournament.

So far he had had to compete in who could get their toothpaste spit in the sink from the furthest away; referee who could shower the quickest (this had been between Eduard, Raivis, Matthew, Lovino and Aontonio); participate in who could eat their breakfast the fastest; and test to see who (if anyone) could manage to get seconds from the dinner lady.

Then, of course, there had been a race to the cabin where their morning Critical Thinking workshop was going to be held.

Arthur was feeling ill. So very, very ill. The hurried breakfast followed by the running, not to mention the constant adrenaline rush in trying to win everything, oh, and let's not forget the ongoing humiliation of having to blab something about himself whenever someone said his name…Arthur felt like he was going to be sick, and the rainy day games had only been going on for half an hour.

Arthur went to sit down in his usual seat by the front door (as the new kid on day one, he had not wanted to claim a prime position in class for fear of drawing attention to himself), but to his surprise, Alfred grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the window on the other side of the room, where the American usually sat.

"You need to sit behind me, so I can pass you notes about the rainy day games in class."

"In class?" Arthur gasped, scandalised. "I will _not_ be playing your stupid games in class; I want to pay attention. Do you know how good an opportunity we get here at Camp Hetalia – and you're just wasting it!"

"Dude, I come here every year. I know it looks good on our university applications and helps us do better at school and whatever," Alfred said, raising his eyes in exasperation, as if it was a speech he had had to give many times. "But it's summer camp, for crying out loud! We should get to have fun, too!"

"This _is_ fun for me!" Arthur pleaded, but to no avail. Alfred pushed him down into a chair, then went to sit at the desk in front. To Arthur's surprise, he immediately whipped out a notebook from his bag and began intently scribbling on a blank page.

"Do not worry," Kiku comforted him, twisting around in his seat in the row next to Alfred. "We have been doing this for a long time. We know which games are possible to play in class without getting caught."

Arthur nodded, and waited. With dread.

Alfred at least let their critical thinking class get under way (which, as always, involved the traditional admonishments from their counsellor that only a select few had done their required reading) before Arthur found him placing a folded up piece of paper on the corner of his desk.

It was very intricately folded and Arthur had to dedicate all his attention to figuring out how to open it so that he could close it properly again afterwards.

'Rainy Day game number…5/6 (can't remember)

Pass the note around class until someone gets caught. You have to write something on the paper so I know you joined in. Otherwise, no points for you!

P.S. don't sign your name. Remember what happened that first time?

I'm the hero.'

Arthur wasn't sure how Alfred was keeping track of the Rainy Day Game points system, if he was at all. More likely he would just announce himself the irrefutable winner at the end of the day.

Arthur scribbled 'Francis is a prick ' underneath 'I'm the hero', re-folded it with some difficulty, and carefully placed it on the desk behind him.

As he heard the paper being unfolded once again he had a sudden idea for a new, much more enjoyable Rainy Day Game.

He pulled his paper closer and bent his head down as he quickly scrawled a new note. Then he folded it like the first one, into a little square envelope, and tapped Alfred on the shoulder with it.

Alfred turned his head curiously, saw the note in Arthur's oustretched hand, and frowned in confusion. He probably thought Arthur hadn't understood the rules of the other game and was passing the note back. Arthur nudged it into his shoulder again and nodded silently. Alfred took the note and turned back to his seat.

Arthur sat waiting, a smug grin on his face, knowing that Alfred would love his new challenge.

'Rainy day game number EIGHT:

See who can get Francis in trouble first. We could probably extend this to 'see who can get Francis in trouble most and/or worst' throughout the entire day. He won't tell on us, because of yesterday.'

He watched Alfred's back, waiting for a sign that the new challenge was on. Sure enough, the tall blonde turned his head just slightly, so that Arthur could see him wink over his shoulder.

_Challenge accepted._

Arthur wasted no time at all. All this note passing had given him an idea. It must just be something about writing, coupled with getting Francis in trouble – he was feeling practically giddy.

Arthur tore off yet another piece of blank paper, feeling bad that his critical thinking notes had been completely ignored for the past few minutes. But it didn't stop him from scribbling away once again at something entirely not class related.

Once the new note was folded, he sat back and surveyed the room.

He could see Mathias trying to pass the original note to a very uninterested Nikolai, everyone else staring off into space or doodling. One or two (three might have been pushing it) were actually paying attention.

His problem was that Francis was all the way on the other side of the room. He, Gilbert and Antonio had three desks at the back, so that they could goof off a bit more without getting noticed. Francis was in the very corner, looking preoccupied. Gilbert and Antonio were leant towards each other, whispering creepily about something, but Francis was staring down at the pencil in his hands, twirling it round on the desk morosely.

_Still feeling bad his actions yesterday, I hope,_ thought Arthur. Still, what with him being in the corner, Arthur supposed he could just launch his note over and nobody else would risk picking it up.

He decided to do a practice run, to get the French boy's attention. He broke off a piece of his eraser (the word he had swiftly learned to substitute for 'rubber' when he arrived at camp) and chucked it at Francis' head.

He cheered inwardly when the eraser hit its mark, bouncing off Francis' temple as the long-haired teen sat up straight and looked around. His eyes fell on Arthur, who was staring pointedly at him.

Arthur held up the little note in his hand, pointed at Francis, and then threw that over to him as well. But this time, he deliberately missed, so that it landed on the ground, and Francis had to bend beneath his desk to pick it up.

As soon as the French boy's head disappeared under his desk, Arthur shot his hand up in the air and waved it around to get their counsellor's attention.

She had been preoccupied with writing on the board when Arthur made his move throwing the rubber and paper to Francis. But she had just turned round, and now spotted one of the campers waving frantically.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Counsellor Helena, Francis keeps trying to get my attention – I think he's trying to pass me a note. It's very distracting."

Francis had just reappeared above the table, note in hand. Everyone turned to look at him, and Counsellor Helena scowled.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, if what you have to say to Mr. Kirkland is so important that you feel the need to disrupt him in class, I will allow you to read it aloud to him before I send you out of the room for the rest of the workshop."

Francis looked terrified, having guessed that Arthur must have planned on this and would have written something incriminating or embarrassing inside the note.

"Non, it is not so important," Francis said, his voice slightly pleading, as if begging Counsellor Helena not to push the issue.

No such luck.

"Then please allow me," said the young woman, who was looking more and more beautiful to Arthur as she humiliated Bonnefoy just as he had hoped.

Francis had no choice but to hand over the note, the eyes of all the other campers following his every movement. Counsellor Helena brushed her long dark plait off her shoulder and stood up straight to read the letter.

" 'Cher Arthur,

Who is your favourite camp counsellor? I think Helena is the sexiest. I particularly like her sweet little derriere. But Legolas has such long beautiful hair - I'm quite envious. I just want to brush it and stroke it.' "

Counsellor Helena's reaction would have been worth it even if Francis wasn't going to get into a shitload of trouble. Arthur was in so much pain trying to contain himself it almost felt like he was getting punished, too. But he almost needn't have bothered – the roars from the rest of the campers would have drowned out his laughter quite easily.

Arthur noticed with delight that Alfred had collapsed over his desk, and actually seemed to be crying. Seeing that made it worth it, too.

I mean, just because he had made Alfred cry. Which was so stupid. He would definitely tease him about it later.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy day game number 12:

"We're gonna have a game of 'snap'. Okay, _Arthur_?"

"I don't care what anyone says, I _like_ sweater vests." (At least this stupid 'zap' game had encouraged Alfred to drop the ridiculous nickname habit.) "'Snap'? As in the most simple of all card games? Throwing cards on the floor and slapping your hand on the pile when you see a pair? _That_ 'snap'?"

"Yup. We'll be doing poker and stuff later, but since this is just a short break…" Alfred pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them.

The two of them, plus Kiku, Heracles and Matthew (which was apparently that other blonde boy's name, and Arthur was really trying to make it stick this time) were lounging in Kiku's cabin during a break in between their morning activities. It was still raining, and there was no end of the rainy day games tournament in sight.

"We'll do a round robin, okay, guys? Face off against each other in two-on-two, and then work our way up to an overall winner. Which is totally gonna be me." The others all nodded.

Arthur beat Matthew, whose delicate reflexes rather suggested 'snap' was not his best game. He also beat Heracles, whose heart didn't really seem to be in it since he barely made any move to slam his hand down when he saw a pair. Arthur felt somewhat awkward playing such a stupid game with Kiku, but they got into it and Kiku won.

Alfred plonked down on the floor, kneeling and bent close over the pile, and tensing as if he were about to begin a sprint. Arthur sighed, and tried to get in a similar position so he could at least have a chance of beating the American.

They each began throwing cards down, and at the first pair of Aces both slammed their hands down shouting "SNAP!"

Arthur was ridiculously uncomfortable with the way he became excited and nervous at touching Alfred's hand like this. It was just adrenaline, he told himself. Just because they were in competition.

Even though he hadn't felt that way when Kiku's or Matthew's hands had knocked against his in _their_ games.

Arthur practically tore his hand away, completely oblivious to the fact that he had won the pile that time. Alfred was just laughing, and it seemed far more annoying than usual. Like he didn't care that Arthur was…

God dammit. What had changed since yesterday? Why did Alfred suddenly…stand out so much to him?

_Shut up. Forget about it. Just ignore it. Doesn't matter. Didn't happen. Anyway. There we go. What's next?_

It was probably easier to shut up and forget about it when it didn't happen over and over again as they worked their way through a deck of cards.

After he and Alfred were finally done, and the round-robin called for them to play each other _again_, Arthur remembered that he had to go and make sure his bed was made properly, so he couldn't play anymore.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 23:

"You're gonna love this one, _Arthur_!"

Arthur lifted up his hand to remind Alfred that he had washed the 'zap!' off at the beginning of lunch. Apparently you weren't allowed to deliberately wash it off – you had to wait until you needed to go the bathroom, then it was allowed.

"Oh, right," said Alfred sadly. "Anyway, game number…whatever: chicken."

"Oh, God."

"All you have to do is go in there, grab Ivan's pillow, bring it out here and hug it so I can make sure you actually do it, then go put it back."

"But…" Arthur stammered, not wanting to sound too scared of the giant boulder of a teenager who had, not even 24 hours ago, helped try and murder him. Well, sort of.

The two blondes were standing underneath a tree out of the rain, with Ivan's cabin right in front of them – its open doorway looking like a big, dark mouth ready to swallow Arthur whole. "But what if he can smell me on the pillow when he goes to bed later?" Arthur whispered, leaning away from the cabin towards Alfred. "And he comes to get me?"

"You'll just have to risk it," Alfred grinned down at him. "Or forfeit. But if you forfeit I get to zap you again, and you have to tell me embarrassing stuff when I say your name this time!"

"Why am I the only one doing this? Don't you have to play chicken, too?"

"I'll do mine during our next break. We can't go at the same time."

Arthur grumbled to show his displeasure, but decided that after yesterday's impressive show of bravery he was not going to let himself down.

The adrenaline was rushing through him so powerfully that he barely registered what he was doing. Somehow, in his trance-like state of nervousness, he figured out which one was Ivan's bunk, grabbed the pillow and headed back to the doorway. Alfred stood waiting for him underneath the tree and nodded for him to carry on with the next bit of the plan. Arthur hugged the pillow and Alfred clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "Hurry!" he choked out, and Arthur didn't need telling twice. He ran back in shoved the pillow back in its original spot before whirling round and darting towards the door.

But just as he did so, Yao entered the cabin.

"What are you doing in here, aru?" he asked, not looking too suspicious, but in Arthur's head Yao knew everything and was going to tell Ivan and he was going to be murdered!

"It was totally my fault!" Alfred called. Arthur peered round Yao and saw the American leaning into the room, with one hand on either side of the doorframe. "Heracles borrowed something from me and then forgot to give it back, so I asked Arthur to go get it for me. But he didn't know where it was. So yeah. We'll just be going now."

He jerked his head to point back outside, and Arthur suddenly remembered how to move. He practically ran out of the cabin – pride be damned.

"I didn't really do much when I came to your rescue yesterday," Alfred said out of nowhere. Arthur looked up him his wide eyes. "So that was to make up for it."

He looked bashful, and Arthur really, really didn't like it. Not one bit. It meant…too much.

"You were fine yesterday," he tried to reply breezily. "You must have fought off two whole camp teams to get to the train tracks in time. That's not so bad. And you stopped the train all by yourself."

Alfred's eyes got their sparkle back. "Yeah! I was totally a hero! Even though you talked your way out of it in the end, I still fought off the bandits!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and the two of them headed back to the cabin for the still drawing class which would be substituting their basketball game that afternoon.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Arthur was now certain that Alfred was not keeping track of the points for these challenges. Most of their little games were almost impossible to measure, anyway.

Like: count how many times Lovino swears at Antonio throughout the day. Arthur had honestly tried, but gave up quicker than he'd ever given up anything in his life before.

When he realised the flaw in these games, Arthur suggested changing the rules to something more of a betting challenge. They could pick a time limit, make a guess for how many times the thing happened, and then see who was closest.

When word spread among the campers about this much more simple and feasible method of playing Alfred's Rainy Day Games, many more of the boys joined in.

So far they had gambled and taken bets on:

- How many times Lovino would swear at Antonio in a quarter of an hour (it had originally been a whole hour, but they found themselves losing track at the exorbitant number pretty swiftly)

- How long Alfred could be quiet (Arthur tried to use the term 'epic fail' sparingly, but this was a perfect occasion to break it out)

- How many times Francis would touch people inappropriately in an hour (Arthur was sure it would be higher, but the French boy was still rather subdued after his humiliation this morning)

- How often Heracles would wander over to be near Kiku during art class (this was just a bet between the other members of Team Alpha Dog, who had made sure the two teens in question were placed on opposite sides of the room)

- How many times Gilbert used the word "awesome" in thirty minutes

- And then a simple yes or no bet as to whether Feliciano could stay concentrated on his drawing or whether he would mention dinner

"So you made up these Rainy Day Games a previous summer?" Arthur asked Kiku as they tidied up their drawing supplies.

"Nn," Kiku nodded. "One summer it rained for the first ten days of camp, and Alfred was…a little…"

"I understand," said Arthur, feeling truly sorry for what the poor campers must have gone through, with Alfred F. Jones driving everyone to distraction by being cooped up for so long.

"We do a similar thing on long car rides," said Matthew shyly. "Alfred's always been like that, so Mom and Dad have to play all sorts of games with him in the car to keep him busy."

"Oh!" Arthur exclaimed. "Are you telling me you two are brothers? I had no idea!" Matthew and Kiku both looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Uh – I mean, I'm sure somebody told me, but I must have forgotten. Since you two are so different."

"Yeah, that happens a lot," Matthew sighed, and Arthur could tell his reaction had been fairly typical.

Now that he thought about it, he supposed they did look _sort of_ similar. But Alfred was always so lively and exuberant, and Matthew so quiet and reticent, that their faces never held the same expressions and it was easy not to notice the family resemblances.

"Anyway," said Arthur. "What you're saying is, you had to invent a day-long tournament just to keep a seventeen year old boy occupied on rainy days?"

"Um, yes. That is correct."

"I swear to God – "

"Hey, Artie, I need to try something. Give me your hand for a second."

Arthur felt a jolt of…No! There was nothing! No electricity whatsoever. Some moron just grabbed his hand tightly that was all. It didn't make him nervous or anything at all.

Arthur was so busy ignoring anything his body tried to tell him that he forgot to be suspicious of what Alfred was doing.

And that was how he found himself with 'Zap!' written on his hand once again.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 39:

"It's a shame there are no girls, or we could play the Pocky game," said Alfred, wistfully.

"I won't even ask. But I have a game."

"Oh, yeah? What is it, _Arthur_?"

Arthur glared. "I believe in the once and future king," he said, cryptically. "I don't know, you might not be able to handle this game, Jones. It requires lots of – "

"I can do anything! I'm a hero. Just lay down the rules."

Arthur pointed him towards the window, raindrops streaming down the outside and making a pattern of streaks and dots all over the surface.

"We stand by the window. And each of us picks a raindrop at the top." Arthur smiled at the intense look on Alfred's face as he stared at the glass. "And whosever raindrop gets to the bottom of the window frame first is the winner."

"So it's like betting on a race!" Alfred said excitedly, looking at Arthur for confirmation. Arthur nodded. "Sweet! Okay. You say when we start."

"Okay, on three, we each pick a raindrop up here. One…two…three!"

They each pointed at their respective raindrops and spent a surprisingly loud and competitive minute or two watching them race each other to the bottom.

Alfred liked that one so much that they played it all the way until dinner time.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 52:

"Dude! Mattie! We almost forgot about the glasses game!"

Arthur watched Matthew visibly shrink into himself. It was impressively pathetic – no predator could possibly hurt something that sad looking. It would be like kicking a puppy.

Team Alpha Dog was standing on the porch of Matthew's cabin, where they had been instructed to wait for Alfred before he dashed off on some private mission.

The rain was still hammering into the ground and night had fallen early over the forest because of the dark black clouds. The lamps on the covered wooden porch were the only things giving off any light, making everything around the cabin look a muddy orange colour.

Now Alfred had reappeared, clearly bearing a new challenge that was just between the two twins.

"Eduard, Roderich and Berwald don't wanna play, 'cause they're a bunch of douchebags. So it's just me and you, little brother!"

Matthew heaved a sigh that was almost longer than any sentence Arthur had him utter so far. He walked slowly down the steps of the cabin, as one condemned, and went to stand beside his brother in the pouring rain.

Alfred was happily oblivious to his brother's misery. He looked up at his other teammates. "Anyone got a stopwatch?"

"Yeah, how long do you want?" asked Miguel, holding out his wrist.

"Thirty seconds," said Alfred. "Just say when."

Arthur watched in bewilderment, confusion, surprise, interest and so many of those other emotional reactions now associated with Alfred Jones, as the two twins took off their glasses and held them out carefully, with one hand shielding the frames from the rain.

"Okay, ready?...Go!"

Suddenly, Alfred was holding up his glasses and darting about to and fro in the mud, with seemingly no direction in mind. Matthew was standing still and holding his glasses high above his head, leaning his arms one way and the other to try and…Arthur gave up trying to figure it out.

"Who can get the most drops of water on their glasses," Kiku whispered in his ear.

"Good…Lord…"

It was the most ridiculous display Arthur had ever seen. And he couldn't help but double over with laughter.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Rainy Day Game number 69:

"I have a new game. Would you like to try?"

"Sure, Iggy! Ah! I mean, Arthur!"

"Too late: you said 'Iggy' first. It doesn't count."

They were sprawled on the floor of Arthur's cabin – the 'quiet cabin', because everyone who roomed there was nice and sensible. Or, as Alfred put it: 'boring.' The camp counsellors, in a merciful display of understanding, managed to group together fairly similar individuals, so that those who liked things nice and peaceful at bed time (like Arthur, Roderich, Vash, Eduard and Ice) shared a cabin, and those who liked to be a complete nuisance at all hours (for example, Alfred, Gilbert, Yong Soo and Mathias) were kept together in the 'loud cabin'. Away from the other poor souls at Camp Hetalia.

They had started out in Alfred's cabin, of course, but the American boy was unusually intent on their rainy day games, and had demanded they move somewhere quieter before he straight-up murdered Mathias for walking all over their hangman paper again.

So now Alfred and Arthur were hanging out in 'the quiet cabin' – whose other occupants were out visiting the other campers, it seemed. Matthew, Miguel, Kiku and Heracles had all disappeared, too. Arthur didn't mind – this must be the first time in years where they could fob the annoying teen off on someone else, and let _them_ deal with him. Arthur rather felt like the babysitter for a couple who had just had a new baby and were taking their first night off.

They were surrounded by piles of crumpled notebook paper. There were games of tic-tac-toe and consequences. Pages and pages of hangman, with answers ranging from "Gryffindor" and "Big Mac meal" to "wanker" and "Miley Cyrus". (In Alfred's defense, it _had_ been a good one – Arthur hadn't been able to figure it out, what with those 'y's and the fact that it was a bleeding tween pop star.)

"Pass me that pen," said Arthur, gesturing to the marker lying half under the bed beside Alfred. Instead of reaching over, Alfred rolled over and over until he was almost under the bed, picked up the pen and rolled back again. He stayed lying down on his back, but held up the pen for Arthur to take from him.

"Thank you. Now hold still."

Arthur knelt forward to lean in over Alfred's face, and cupped his face in one hand.

He completely ignored the victorious little voice in his head that congratulated him on finding and excuse to get that close. He'd been wanting to do that all day!

No he hadn't! Shut up. Don't listen to that. Never mind. Carry on.

Alfred looked shocked, but not horrified. He seemed to calm down as he realised Arthur was just writing something on his cheek, but he didn't stop piercing Arthur with those sky blue...Not that Arthur had really noticed the colour of his eyes. They weren't that unique. And it wasn't like he was avoiding looking back at him right now. Because that would mean he felt nervous to look at him, and he didn't!

Arthur leant back and put the lid of the pen back on, before fiddling with it very intently in his lap.

Alfred rubbed his cheek and went to look in the mirror for Arthur's mirror for the second time that day. "'Pow'?"

"Yes, it's a new game. Whenever somebody calls you a mean name, you have to tell us something about yourself."

"This is a _lot_ like that other game I told you about this morning, wouldn't ya say?" Alfred grinned over his shoulder at Arthur. "In fact, I would go so far as to say they're almost identical."

"This is hardly derivative of 'zap', if that's what you're implying," Arthur smirked in reply. "When playing 'pow' it all depends on when someone _doesn't_ say your name. Do you understand, _git_?"

"It still seems kind of a rip-off…"

"Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?" Alfred glared at him, but with a smile on his face. "Is that how it is, _git_?"

Alfred came and sat back down in front of him. He crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands and leaned in. _Challenge accepted._

"I'm so glad you came to Camp Hetalia this year, _Arthur_."

Arthur suddenly felt very warm, and regretful about his brilliant new game. Now he had to tell Alfred something about _him_. Well, two could, and _would,_ play at that game, even if they did just go round in circles.

"I'm glad that I came, too, you big _moron_."

"I'm glad we're friends now, _Arthur_."

Arthur blanched, but recovered quickly. "I…didn't even notice." This didn't really feel like admitting something, as the rules of the game dictated. But he hoped that Alfred would let it slide – that he would see what Arthur really meant behind it was: '_yes, we are, aren't we._' "How did that happen, _tosser_?"

"I can win anybody round, Arthur."

"Apparently so. You're…not as bad as I thought at first, you pillock."

"I love your accent and your British insults, Arthur."

Arthur's body was on fire, and his mind was too busy worrying about Alfred noticing his sudden case of the shivers to worry about denying it all.

"I-I like your…" He actually had to gulp. How humiliating! "I like how you were going to sacrifice the trophy for me yesterday. Dumb sod." Oh, it was so embarrassing to admit, even though it had no reason to be.

Alfred's slow, victorious smile was dangerous. At least to Arthur. He had to make a mental note to avoid it in the future, but right now he would enjoy getting one last look at it.

"I don't think you're very good at this 'pow' game," Alfred whispered, leaning forwards in a way that invited Arthur's body to copy him. "You said you would be calling me harsh names – but I know you don't mean any of it really, _Arthur_."

They were playing a new game now. One that wasn't on their list of rainy day distractions, but they both knew they were playing.

It was thrilling. And tense and terrifying and embarrassing and the stakes were much too high. Alfred could make a fool out of him if he made one wrong move.

So Arthur quit.

Luckily, Alfred couldn't tease him about giving up, since neither of them had acknowledged that they were playing this new game. Arthur could quit, and Alfred couldn't say a word.

"I would like…to go back to the 'loud cabin' and play Yahtzee with everyone."

* * *

><p>AN: I just…I just kept thinking up more and more games and little moments I wanted to write about. This story really just has a love affair with my fingers and the keyboard – I swear, my brain and I have nothing to do with it!

OH NO! I forgot to do the staring contest!


	5. Literature

It was afternoon free time at Camp Hetalia, and Arthur was making the most of the uncommon peace and quiet to read his book.

He had settled himself on his usual log by the big campfire – though he had to put a towel over it as everything was still fairly damp from the rain the day before. There was a faint rustling every now and again from the Camp Hetalia flag, flapping on its pole just outside the circle of logs. The sun beamed down at him from a bright blue sky, scattered with only the fluffiest white clouds – but with the refreshing breeze, the boy was neither too hot nor too cold. It was just lovely.

He smiled to himself as he took a moment to look up from his book and enjoy the silence.

The reason it was so abnormally tranquil was that the camp counsellors had used today's free time to impose a mandatory study session for all the teens who had not done enough of their required reading. Which meant 90% of the campers had been dragged off to the cafeteria for nothing short of detention. There were only two or three people who were free this afternoon, and they were all quiet types like Arthur, who had gone off to relax in cabins and fields that were peaceful for once.

Of course, Arthur had done his prescribed reading, and was free to do as he pleased. Which meant: leisure reading.

Honestly, he didn't know why the other boys bothered coming to Camp Hetalia if they weren't going to take it seriously. This was so much more than any other summer program. It wasn't all fun and games (though there was plenty of that); they also had the opportunity to take interesting, meaningful classes and workshops from incredibly intelligent people. If they weren't going to do the reading homework, then how were they supposed to get anything out of it? Some people just had more money than sense, Arthur sighed inwardly. _And some people had more money and sense than kindness_, he added to himself, thinking of his own situation at home.

He was so lost in thought it took him a moment to realise that Alfred had appeared before him. He was pressed up against the side of the log cabin closest to the campfire circle, keeping to the shadows and peering around warily in all directions.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the cafeteria ?" asked Arthur.

"SHH!" Alfred jammed a finger to his lips, staring at Arthur. He had reached the corner of the log cabin he was using as cover, and didn't come any , he just waved frantically until Arthur decided to indulge him and sauntered over.

"What is it you – "

But he didn't get a chance to choose an appropriate insult from the vault, because Alfred just grabbed his hand and raced off through the camp grounds.

"What are you – "

"SHH!"

The cabins in their campgrounds were scattered about with no real pattern in mind. They were just spaced far enough apart and surrounded by enough trees that you couldn't really see one from another.

Alfred dragged him to the cafeteria, but pushed a hand against Arthur's chest so that the boy didn't follow him in.

"Go round the back. There's a window. Wait there," he instructed in an amusingly serious tone of voice for something which was sure to only get more ridiculous.

Alfred then dashed inside, leaving Arthur standing bewildered by the stairs leading up to the door.

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, before wandering round the back of the log cabin to see what the hell this was all about.

There were several windows, but Arthur had no trouble figuring out which one he was suppose to be looking for – since Alfred's nose, glasses and forehead were peering over the windowsill of a window that looked into a small office room. The window was about at Arthur's eye level, since the cabin was raised, and he had to stand on his tip toes to get a good hard stare at the outrageous American.

"What?" Arthur demanded at the top of Alfred's head.

In reply, Alfred leaned a bit further out the window, checking left and right to make sure no one was coming. Then he shoved something down into Arthur's hands and pointed over to the trees.

"Take this as far as you can go, so the string is pulled out tight. Then hold it up to your ear. And stay out of sight."

With that, he retreated back inside the room.

Arthur looked down at the object Alfred has thrust into his hands.

It was a tin can, with a long white string coming out end one. He followed it with his eyes and saw that the other end of the string disappeared over the windowsill and into Alfred's room. The other end of the can had the lid peeled off so he could look inside, but it was empty…

Oh.

Oh, God, he couldn't be _that_ infantile, could he?

He didn't know why he kept asking himself these things. Of _course_ Alfred F. Jones could be that infantile.

Arthur groaned, more out of habit than actual aversion to this new game. He had never got to play it when he was younger…

The British boy walked over towards the trees behind the cafeteria, seeing how far he could go before the string became taut. Eventually he found a place to sit where he could lean his back against a tree trunk, still get a nice little ray of sunshine, and the string was perfectly taut. He wasn't sure he was really well hidden, but he wasn't as paranoid as Alfred about these things.

He held the can up to his ear and waited.

"Artie, you there?"

"Yes…"

"Woohoo!"

Arthur held the can away from his head, as Alfred's voice cheered loudly right in his ear.

"I honestly don't believe you. Are we _really_ doing this?"

"Well, we're not allowed cell phones at camp. Me and Mattie made this tin can telephone, like, our first year at Camp Hetalia. It's come in _so_ useful – you don't even know."

"Aren't you supposed to be in detention? I mean: 'mandatory self study'?"

"Yeah, I am. But they put me in a room by myself because I was being a nuisance or something." Arthur could hear Alfred's smile as he added "Which was pretty dumb of them 'cause now nobody's here to tell me off for talking to you. The person guarding my room went off to the bathroom or something, so I ran out to my cabin and grabbed the telephone and got you so we could talk. I don't think anyone saw me."

"Are you telling me you're in solitary confinement, Alfred?" Arthur smiled, picturing the rambunctious blonde teen shut up in a room by himself going stir crazy.

"Yeah! It's soooo boring!"

"Why don't you read your bloody book, then?"

Arthur found it not too difficult for them to know when the other was finished speaking – so he could move the tin can from his ear to his mouth and begin speaking without interrupting Alfred and missing what the other boy was saying.

"It's…it's scary, Arthur. I don't like it." Arthur was so surprised at the honesty in Alfred's voice that he kept the tin can at his ear. Alfred, not hearing anything in reply, continued. "It's 'Lord of the Flies', by the way. It's just horrible; how could they all do that to each other? It made me…well, I just really wanted to come see you and make sure you were okay."

The next pause was long enough that Arthur remembered how to function. He brought the tin can down to his mouth and took a deep breath, hoping Alfred couldn't hear that, too. "It's just a sodding book, Jones. And an allegory, at that – it's not something that would ever actually happen. I promise…I promise I would be fine if we all just started killing each other. You and I, Matthew, Kiku, and everyone – we would never do that to each other."

He didn't want to say any more, so he lifted the can back to his ear and waited.

"Yeah," came the reply. "Yeah, you're right." He could hear the relief in Alfred's voice, and felt comforted just knowing that Alfred wasn't so scared anymore. "If we were on a deserted island, I would never hunt you down and kill you."

"And if you had to go and take the One Ring back to Mordor, I would join you. Otherwise it would never get out of Hobbiton."

"What?"

"Sam and Frodo, in Lord of the Rings."

"Ooooh!" Again he could hear the smile in Alfred's voice as he cottoned on to the game. "Well, if I was the most famous wizard of all time ever, I'd totally still hang out with you. Even if you were poor and ginger."

"And if I were a genius detective living on Baker Street, I suppose I could let you write my biography since you admire me so much."

Arthur held the can to his ear to wait for a reply – but apparently Alfred thought there must be more, as his end remained silent. He must be holding the can up to his ear, too, waiting for Arthur to continue. But when nothing came, Arthur finally heard a "Huh?"

"Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson."

"Ah. I haven't read that. I saw the movie, though."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about movie versions! Shall I stick to children's books then? Hopefully you'll have read some of these. Or maybe the teacher read them to you at story time in school?"

"I've always been more of a 'graphic novel' kinda guy. Like, if were brothers and we resurrected our dead mother using alchemy and it all went wrong and you got sucked into some giant death gate thing – I would totally sacrifice my right arm to get your soul back and put it in a giant suit of armour."

"…..What?"

"Fullmetal Alchemist! It's so awesome! I'll have to show it to you sometime."

"It's a graphic novel?"

"Yeah. And you can't complain about it being for kids – it's seriously long and epic. It's just got pictures instead of words. Nothing stupid about that, that's how people told stories for centuries."

"I suppose. Anyway, um…I would be your friend even if the rest of the townspeople thought you were no good. And even if I got whipped for it."

"Are you talking about…Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?"

"Yes, you got one. Well done, you."

"Well, thanks," Alfred laughed, the sound reverberating around the empty tin can at Arthur's ear. "Let's see…um…If I could fly, I would take you away to my magical land and you could even bring your brothers."

Arthur blushed at the awkward implications behind that innocent statement. Why was he suddenly being turned into a girl?

"Well, if you were a complete douchebag I would come back from the grave to warn you that you were going to hell."

"A Christmas Carol? I've actually read that one. My mom made me."

"Quite right, too."

"If I were your dog and I was taken away by some rich bastard I would totally come back to you."

"L-Lassie, I presume?" Curse that embarrassing stutter that had started to crop up in his life!

"Yup!"

"Well, if Eeyore took over your house, I would let you come live with me."

"Eeyore? As in Winnie-the-Pooh?"

Arthur nodded. He had drawn his knees up to his chest, and was leaning in towards the tin can, completely absorbed. He held the grubby silver tin in both hands, as if it were something precious, and had begun almost whispering for some reason. Well, not really whispering. Talking quietly and…gently. God, what was he _doing_?

There was no reply from Alfred, and Arthur realised the other boy couldn't just _see_ him nodding his assent. "Um, yes," he said quickly, into the tin can. "It's a much better book than it is a cartoon."

"I bet you say that about everything."

"Because it's _always_ true!"

"Oh! I've got one! If you were killed by a Trojan guy, I would avenge you like a fricking champ!"

"The Iliad? Do you mean…um…Achilles and Patroclus?"

"Yeah. We had to read it in class."

"Don't you…um…you didn't notice the, uh…" Should he mention the fact that people had been debating the homoeroticism of this particular friendship for years? …No. No, he shouldn't. "Never mind. If you were sucked into the book world I lived in and started to lose all your memories because you were being a selfish prick, I would help you find your way home."

"…Okay, I give up."

"The Neverending Story. You should read it."

"If I were a bitter-ex-turned-ally I would let you be with Ramona Flowers so you would be happy and we could at least be friends."

"Wh-what?"

"Scott Pilgrim."

"S-since when did this turn into a 'guess how much I love you' contest?" Arthur exclaimed, hands shaking as he held the can back up to his ear.

"I think it's been that way the whole time. Anyway, your turn!"

"I…I would still be your friend even if I knew you were sleeping with my wife."

"Woah! What?"

"King Arthur and…Lancelot."

"Wow, I thought they were bffs! But Artie, I would _never_ do that to you." There was a pause, and Arthur let out a much needed, awkwardly shuddering, sigh. "Okay. I have the _best_ one." Alfred sounded very proud of himself, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a pool of dread growing in his stomach. This game was getting out of hand. Just like yesterday. "If you were under a spell so you slept forever, I would definitely kiss you to wake you up. EVEN if you were still a boy."

Arthur's mouth was just opening and shutting of its own accord, but he couldn't make a sound.

"You still with me," Alfred laughed into his ear. "Or did I win? I'm a better friend than you, right? And you thought I was such a douchebag when we met. Well, look who's the douchebag now!"

Arthur made sure Alfred's little spiel was finished, then jammed his mouth into the can and said "I would fall in love with you even if you were a big ugly beast!"

Oh. Wait. That had come out wrong. Because that was saying he would fall in love with Alfred no matter what. And he wasn't a big ugly beast, so it was like saying he could fall in love with him right now. And that was…That sucked.

Eventually he raised the can slowly to his ear, dreading what he would hear.

There was nothing for a long time, and Arthur's heart was hammering away at his ribcage like a complete traitor! Or…like an innocent prisoner who just wanted to get out.

Arthur chanced a look over at Alfred's window and saw that one of the camp counsellors had entered Alfred's temporary jail. They had clearly noticed him not paying good enough attention to his work, because Arthur clearly saw arm flailing and could heard a raised voice, despite his distance and the glass of the closed window between them.

He realised that the string of the tin can telephone was no longer taut, and wondered how long it had been that way.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

At dinner time, Alfred explained that when he heard the door of his room opening he had chucked the tin can out the window and closed it, so the counsellor couldn't follow the string to Arthur and tell _him_ off, too.

Arthur wasn't going to ask if Alfred had heard his last comment, and the other boy didn't bring it up all night. As Arthur headed away from the communal sinks towards his cabin for bed, he even let himself think he had gotten away with it.

But then a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and a body stepped close enough that he could feel their heat on his back. And then an American accent breathed in his ear "In case you were wondering, you won that game, Artie."

So why did Arthur feel like he had lost?

* * *

><p>AN: Did you know another name for the "tin can telephone" is the "lover's telephone"? (Says Wikipedia...)

My brother and I play this friendship test game thing all the time. I always pull the Fullmetal Alchemist card on him. Luckily, he has never read a book in his life, so I usually win.


	6. Sewing

It almost seemed as if Alfred was ignoring him today. And despite the relief he should have felt, Arthur found himself unable to stop thinking about it.

They were on the same team in debate class that morning, but the usually irritating American didn't take the opportunity to pester the poor Brit at all – choosing to start up a feud with Miguel, instead.

And at lunch, Jones went to go and sit with Toris and Yong Soo and some of the other members of Team Sunflower, and Arthur was actually left to eat his sandwich without it turning into a giant stomach ache.

It was funny. Not having to deal with Alfred should have left him feeling nice and relaxed, but instead Arthur found himself incredibly busy trying to ignore the worry and frustration building up inside him as he wondered why Alfred wasn't talking to him anymore. He also had his hands full trying _not_ to wonder about it. It was all much more effort than was entirely necessary for something so stupid.

After lunch, the campers were ordered to go and sit around the campfire and, to Arthur's surprise, everyone cheered and dashed off where they were told. He wandered slowly over to the circle of logs and found everyone sitting and waiting…patiently?

He lowered himself slowly down onto his log, staring around him in amazement at the eager faces of the other boys. "What's this all about?" he asked Roderich, who was sitting next to him as usual.

"We're getting our assignments for the annual skit," the posh boy explained, adjusting his glasses against the blaring sunlight. "Everyone is on their best behaviour for once, because the camp counsellors can use the skit to dish out some severe punishments now."

"People don't like the skit, then?"

"Oh, quite the contrary. They love it."

Arthur looked around at the excited faces of the other campers and felt slightly surprised. He had imagined a group of teenage boys would think a silly little play was stupid and childish and…Oh, wait: childish. Roderich was right: it was straight up their alley.

Counsellor Roma came and stood by the flagpole, followed closely by Counsellors Legolas, Helena, and Hun. They were all carrying big cardboard boxes, heavy by the looks of them, and Arthur could see various…God-knows-whats spilling out over the top of each one. A bit of fabric, dangling down the side of one, a baseball bat…was that a rubber chicken poking out the top of that one?

"All-a-right, you all know why we're here," said Counsellor Roma, his trademark goofy grin plastered onto his face. "So I won't-a keep you too long. Just come up and take-a your boxes when I call your team name."

Ivan went up to get the box for Team Sunflower, followed by Berwald for Team Cheese Castle and Francis, Gilbert and Antonio for Team Awesome Tomato Amour (Arthur didn't think even they could remember which one of them was supposed to be team captain).

When Team Alpha Dog was called, Alfred leapt up so quick he almost tripped over his own feet, taking the campfire in one giant leap and landing right in front of Counsellor Roma. The tall Italian man handed over the heavy box, and Alfred skipped back to his seat.

To Arthur's ongoing surprise, the boys were still being very well-behaved. There had been no rummaging into the boxes of props, no chatter and no jeering across to the other teams. They must really take this skit thing seriously.

"All-a-right, you have all-a this evening, and all day tomorrow. The skits start right after dinner and you'll have-a fifteen minutes each."

Sadiq raised his hand politely and Roma nodded towards him to give him permission to speak. "Is there a theme this year?"

"Oh, no. You can do-a whatever you want!" beamed Roma, and at this there was a burst of excited chatter around the campfire.

Despite himself, Arthur started feeling a bit excited about the skit, too.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

"Dudes! We can do _whatever_ _we want_!" Alfred repeated, for about the third time. "I mean, we can pick whatever we want!"

"Yes, we'd gathered that!" barked Arthur, still rather sore at having been ignored all day with no explanation. (Well, obviously it was because of what he had said yesterday, Arthur groaned to himself. But then _Alfred_ was the one who had had the last word. If he was that angry about what Arthur had said, why would he have brought it up again? That was what made Arthur really frustrated. If it was _his_ fault, why had Alfred carried it on?)

Arthur snapped himself out of the thoughts which had whirling round his head all day, and tried to focus on the task at hand.

They were arranging all their props and costumes and fabrics and general miscellanea across the floor of Kiku's cabin – which would be the headquarters of Team Alpha Dog's super secret skit preparations. The other teams had appropriated different cabins for themselves, and Arthur half expected Alfred to begin explaining how they were going to sabotage everyone else's skits to give themselves a head-start.

But, as Roderich had said, everyone seemed to be on their best behaviour.

"If we tried to ruin someone else's skit, the counsellors might not let us put on our show!" Alfred explained, looking horrified that Arthur would even _suggest_ they cause trouble for another human being. "They have way too much power over us for the next day and a half," he added. "If we do one thing wrong they might take away some time off our skit, ban our props, or make us switch roles at last minute or something!"

Arthur noticed Miguel visibly shudder and wondered if that last one had happened before.

"So, why is it so important? Do we get loads of points if we do a good skit?" asked Arthur, still trying to figure out why everyone was taking it so seriously.

"A) It's just super fun," said Alfred, still sorting out the contents of their box by spreading things as far and wide as possible across the floor. "B) we do get tons of points. After all the skits, you vote which of the other teams was first, second and third. So c) we have to try and impress the other guys, and do better than them. D) It's just so much fun."

"Yes, I believe you mentioned that one."

Finally, all their props and skit paraphernalia was spread apart so that they could get a good look at all their equipment.

"So, I'm assuming these are the only things we're allowed to use in the skit?"

"Mostly. We can add some other stuff if we ask the counsellors and they say it's okay – but all this has to be incorporated. And we have to decide what our skit's gonna be about _from_ this stuff."

They all stood back against the walls of the cabin so that they could get a good look at everything, and thought hard as they surveyed the objects on the floor.

Arthur was busy trying to figure out what they could make from this fabric. It was a lot better quality than you would expect from a regular summer camp, but Counsellor Roma really appeared to take dressing up seriously – after that whole Centennial Village thing.

The British boy was so busy looking at the fabric he didn't pay much attention to the other props. But suddenly Alfred stepped forward and pointed.

"Look, we have a sword, a crown, a broom, this fabric could be cloaks or something – I'm thinking we do Harry Potter 7."

"Al, you always just want to do a movie," Matthew reproached quietly.

"Well, we're at summer camp for a month – we miss out on four weeks' worth of summer blockbusters! Besides, it comes out tomorrow, so it would be like our own special premiere!"

"Al-kun, as much as I enjoy Harry Potter, I don't think turning the seventh movie into a skit would work. There is too much explaining to do…"

Alfred didn't look convinced, so Arthur decided to make his suggestion.

"Um, well, we could…I don't know, these costumes and bits of fabric really remind me of something out of Old England – "

"You mean like Shakespeare? Artie, we are _not_ doing Romeo and Juliet!"

Arthur blushed. "That hardly counts as Old England! Shakespeare was only 400-odd years ago."

"_Only_ four hundred years ago?"

"Yes," said Arthur, puffing out his chest proudly at how old and impressive his country was. "I meant…well, I was thinking of what you said yesterday about – " He looked up at Alfred and instantly realised his mistake: Alfred was giving the single most devilish grin Arthur ever had the misfortune of having aimed at him. "About King Arthur," Arthur continued quickly and loudly, looking down at the pile of crap on the floor and blushing profusely. "You said you didn't know how Lancelot and Guinevere had an affair and Arthur knew about it and…stuff."

"Yeah, I knew they were, like, a famous love story but you made it sound so dramatic."

"Well, it was. And maybe the others don't know much about Arthurian legend either. It's such an incredible story, so maybe we could…I don't know…Only if you guys want to," he trailed off, lamely.

"I am intrigued, Arthur," Kiku reassured him. "I have read a bit about it, but I am sure there is much more to the story. Perhaps you could tell us more about it, and we can decide if we want to go with your suggestion."

"I don't know," Alfred drawled from the other side of the room. "Doesn't that seem kinda stuffy?"

"Well, if you don't fancy doing a skit about knights, wizards, giants, quests, duels, revenge – "

It had worked. Alfred had run over and grabbed his arm to drag him over to one of the beds where they could all sit and discuss Arthur's ideas.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

Actually, it had been a rather ingenious idea, if he did say so himself. When he suggested it, it had been more to make sure his own interests were taken into consideration, but actually this really had worked out for the best.

The story of King Arthur was so long and fragmented that they could pick and choose the best bits to turn into scenes for their skit. And since people were already aware of the characters and setting, they wouldn't have too much explaining to do so they could just dive right in to the action. They could make some bits funny, and some bits really dramatic; he was sure the audience was going to be captivated if they managed to do it right. And then there was also the prospect of teaching people about how awesome King Arthur was – something camper Arthur never failed to pass up if he had the opportunity.

Of course, he was allowed to take the role of the once and future king, as he knew the most about it all. Alfred had given himself the other lead role of Lancelot – which suited Arthur just fine since he'd always thought Lancelot was a complete prick.

The two of them would have to stick to their individual roles, as they were main characters – but the other four boys would be playing lots of different people, so that could make the most out of the story.

Arthur had explained the Arthurian Legend as simply as he could, suggesting good stories that they could turn into skits. There was just way too much he wanted to include, but with only fifteen minutes in which to perform the play, and just over a day to rehearse it all in, they had had to cut some of Arthur's favourite episodes.

Right now, the six boys were all busy with the tasks Alfred had given them. The headstrong American had managed to remain in charge of the project, though Arthur was somewhat master of the story and details.

Miguel and Heracles were sorting out props and Matthew and Kiku had been instructed to get to work fixing up the costumes. There were a good twenty-one characters at the moment, and each one needed to be easily distinguishable from the others – especially since there were only six faces to share out between them, and the audience could get easily confused.

Alfred and Arthur were working on the plot and preliminary script.

"So, after you kill that Accolon guy, Morgan la Fey finds you recoupin' and then steals your magic scabbard and throws it in a lake. So we get some awesome bad-guy monologuing here, right? She can be all 'I'll show him! How dare he…' Wait, how come she hates him so much?"

"She's just jealous that he's popular. Simple as that." Arthur was preoccupied watching Kiku and Matthew try to sew…He really wanted to just go and take over…

"Really? Wow, overreaction. So what do you think she should say? I mean, I can't write it if you wanna go all serious with the script. Personally, I like my 21st century dialogue but – "

"If you dare try to modernise this story I swear to God – "

"You know one day I'm gonna let you finish that sentence and we'll find out what you've planning to threaten me with," Arthur smirked at him. Arthur was getting sick of that knowing smile on his face all the time. How dare Alfred give him that look – he didn't know _anything_! How could he give him an 'I know something you don't know' look? Although sometimes it looked more like a 'I know something you don't want me to know' look. He wasn't sure which was worse.

"We need to take this opportunity to make the audience worry about King Arthur's safety," Arthur said, still watching the haphazard sewing with the eye of an expert just dying to jump in and do it properly. "Up until now all the main characters have been safe – because they're main characters, so we don't think anything bad will happen to them. But now King Arthur could die. He's not protected anymore. He's just like anybody else."

"So…Morgan la Fey should say something like 'Good luck trying to survive without your magic scabbard, brother dear. No one can save you now.'"

Arthur was so busy trying to get inside Kiku's head and tell him how to sew that sleeve properly that Arthur didn't even hear the other boy.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. He got down off the bed and went to sit around the pile of fabric with Kiku and Matthew. He grabbed the needle and thread unceremoniously out of Kiku's hand, and began sewing away – letting himself breathe a sigh of relief as he made sure the job was being done properly.

The uncharacteristic silence finally caught up with him, and he looked up slowly to find everyone staring at him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, Kiku! I just…the sleeve would have fallen off if you'd kept going like that and I didn't want you to have done all that work for nothing. Please, you and Matthew can go and help Alfred with the script or something. I'm pretty decent with a needle so I can get everything done by myself in good time, I think."

"But we don't really know the story," Matthew said. "Only what you've told us."

"Arthur, why don't you dictate? If it's not too much to ask you to do two things at once?" Kiku suggested.

"I can do that!" Arthur smiled up at the three boys. Actually that sounded like the most extraordinary evening – sewing away at medieval costumes and writing a script for play about King Arthur. How…delightful!

"So…" Alfred began hesitantly, wondering if they could get back on track. "After Morgan la Fey runs off with the scabbard I get…raped by Heracles…" he said slowly, peering at their little pad of notes as if he was he couldn't read his own writing and he must have got that bit wrong.

"If you _must_ put it like that. But yes, Lancelot gets seduced by Elaine, who pretends to be Guinevere – so it's pretty much rape."

Alfred, Matthew and Kiku exchange worried glances, whilst Arthur sat there contentedly working with the needle and fabric. He never felt so calm as when he was making something like this…

"Wow, this story is frickin' dark!"

"Yes. It's so sad…" said Arthur, his mind wandering, and body untensing as it always did when his hands were working like this. He felt so relaxed, and barely even noticed that he was just letting the words fall out. He always fell into these sorts of trances when he was doing needlework – it was like he became an entirely different person. One who actually said what was on his mind rather than keeping everything inside. "But I love it."

"Masochist."

While Arthur remained in his daze, Alfred sent Kiku and Matthew off to put together some fake horses for the knights to ride on. And maybe see if they could find a coconut or two to make the sound of the horses hooves.

He couldn't help but notice that Arthur looked a bit dazed as he sat there doing his sewing, and he wanted to test whether that made it easier or harder to talk to him.

"Hey, Artie?"

"Mm?"

"You like sewing?"

"Yes, I love it."

Alfred smiled. He was sure Arthur wouldn't usually have been so quick to admit that, so his state of concentration must have made him let his guard down. "Yeah, you look like you're enjoying it. Why do you love sewing so much?"

"It's rewarding making something out of nothing."

"Are you artistic?"

"Not really."

"You just like sewing?"

"Mm."

It must be a little like having a conversation with someone who was sleep-talking, smiled Alfred. Arthur looked as if he had no idea he was actually talking, he just seemed so content and peaceful and focused.

He felt bad. Arthur never looked that way around _him_. He must be really annoying. Clearly Arthur was capable of being perfectly happy, but Alfred didn't know how to make it happen. Unless he just left him alone, apparently.

"Am I really annoying?"

"Yes, and you know it."

"Yeah, but…I don't mean to make you not like me. It's just supposed to be for fun."

"I don't not like you because you're annoying."

Alfred waited to see if he there was any more to that statement, but Arthur just kept working on the scabbard, moving his hands deftly and quickly as if it all came naturally. Apparently, he could only talk in one sentence in his weird zen state.

"Dude, I suck at double negatives. Does that mean there's a different reason why you don't like me?"

"Mm," Arthur murmured.

Damn this one sentence rule he had going on! "So why don't you like me?"

"You make me feel stupid."

Alfred's jaw dropped. Was Arthur just playing with him, or was he so far into this sewing trance that he'd really lost it. "Me? I…Wow, nobody's ever said that to me before." Arthur didn't say anything, so he figured he had to actually ask him a question if he wanted to hear more. "Arthur, how could I possibly make you feel stupid?"

"You're always looking at me funny."

"Wha…How?"

"Like you know a secret that will get me in trouble."

Alfred honestly had no idea where this was coming from. "Arthur…I promise, I don't know anything! I'm a frickin' moron, remember?"

"But you always know how to make me nervous."

"Huh?"

"You do it on purpose."

"I…" Alfred trailed off. How had he made Arthur feel so insecure? What the hell had he been doing without realising? He didn't treat him any differently to anyone else.

Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. He _tried_ not to treat him any differently, at least, but he just couldn't help wanting to be around Arthur the most. He teased everyone, but he really _liked_ teasing Arthur. Most of the time it just came naturally and he didn't even notice - but with Arthur he actually went out of his way to do it.

And to be honest, he didn't do all that flirty teasing with anyone else. The thought actually made him kind of sick. But for some reason, he just _wanted_ to do that kind of teasing with Arthur. He…hadn't really thought about why.

You know what? He was just making things a lot more complicated than they needed to be. Arthur was the new kid at camp, so Alfred was bound to seek him out more. He wanted to be Arthur's friend, and liked hanging around him because he was the new British guy. That was really all there was to it.

_Although, come to think of it,_ a little, stupid voice said in his head…Yesterday, he had been really happy using that friendship test game as an excuse to get to say all those things to Arthur – things that he never would have been able to say otherwise. Like how much he liked him and he hoped they could be best friends and stuff. It was a perfect way of telling him the truth whilst pretending it was just a game.

Not that that thing about the kissing had been the truth. Although he had been really excited when Arthur said he would fall in love with him. Just because it was nice to know someone liked you that much, of course. And Arthur didn't _actually_ mean it the way it came out – he just meant…

Alfred suddenly had a strange, sinking feeling as a little off-hand suggestion hit him out of nowhere. When he told Arthur how much he valued their friendship by pretending it was part of a game…when he flirted with Arthur as a joke was he just _pretending_ it was a joke?

Wow, 'silent Arthur' was even more of a challenge to deal with than 'regular(cranky) Arthur'. He decided to wrap this conversation up before he got brain damage from over-thinking everything.

"I'm sorry for making you feel stupid, Artie. I promise I don't think I'm smarter than you. In fact, I _know_ I'm not smarter than you. How can I make you like me again?"

"Don't ignore me again."

"What, you mean today? I thought you would be all embarrassed about what you said yesterday about the 'Beauty and the Beast' thing. I know you didn't mean it the way it sounded, but I thought it was so funny! So I thought I'd leave you alone today so you didn't think I was trying to make fun of you all the time. I guess even when I'm trying _not_ to be annoying I'm still annoying."

"Mm."

"So…we could actually be friends, though?"

"Yes, you're not so bad, really."

Alfred made up his mind that this conversation was dangerous. So he decided to leave Arthur alone to make Lancelot's cape (something Alfred had insisted upon), and check up on mattie and Kiku's coconut situation. They could figure out the epic script tomorrow.

* * *

><p>AN: I cheated. I made Arthur get hypnotised so he tells the truth. But that's my headcanon - Arthur has these little moments of complete tranquility where he is actually honest. It's the only way Alfred can ever know what he's doing wrong. Poor boy.

Also, holy! Look at me setting up for tomorrow's chapter! I probably won't actually write any of the play, because I would get waaay too into it. Maybe I'll just do the aftermath.


	7. Theatre

'Arthur and Lancelot's Excellent Adventure' was a complete success, despite Alfred butchering the title beyond belief.

The audience gave all the right reactions in all the right places. There was plenty of surprised muttering when Arthur was forced to pull the sword from the stone not only at Christmas but also at Candlemas and Easter – Arthur knew they would be unaware of that part of the story. They gasped when an enraged Gawain cut off a woman's head by accident and fell into despair. Their shock and disgust was clear when they learnt that the giant ate men and raped women to death, and there was the most almighty cheer when Arthur killed him single-handedly. They booed Morgan la Fey's under-handed trickery and mourned the loss of the magic scabbard that would have stopped King Arthur from ever losing blood in battle. There were plenty of 'ew's when they found out the woman Arthur had slept with was his sister, and jeers when Lancelot and Guinevere kept sneaking off together to continue their blatant affair.

Arthur was particularly pleased that the audience seemed to be picking up on his play's message of how selfless and heroic King Arthur was, while teaching them that Lancelot was actually history's biggest douchebag. Alfred clearly didn't understand when the audience began to turn on him with loud 'boo's, and looked scandalised that Arthur had become the hero.

But then again, acting opposite Alfred's Lancelot was the first time Arthur managed to get a glimpse inside the king's head at the relationship between the two men. For the past seventeen years, he had pictured Lancelot as nothing more than a giant prick betraying Arthur's trust time and again. And Arthur had hero-worshipped the wonderful king for being virtuous enough to forgive him every time. He had never really understood why, other than that Arthur hadn't wanted to start that terrible war against a popular knight that would split his court in two. But when he put himself in the role of the king, and Alfred was Lancelot…He started to see more than that. Arthur really cared about Lancelot. They were best friends after all. He was sad that Lancelot and Guinevere were in love because it would cause trouble for them, but he didn't hate Lancelot for it. He couldn't help it – he was in love. And Lancelot felt awful about hurting his friend and sovereign, but he had to be true to his heart, too.

Arthur was uncomfortable with his burgeoning acceptance of Lancelot. He had hated him passionately for so long, but now his own friendship with Alfred had helped him see that the two legendary knights actually cared for each other.

He supposed the reason he had never been able to understand their friendship was because he had never really had a friend of his own who would help him see how much two men could care for each other – despite betrayals and fights and affairs. He had had people to hang out with at lunch and attend extra-curricular activities with, of course. But nobody he actually cared about, whom he would want to forgive if they did something wrong, whom he would he would wish the best for even if it hurt him.

By the end of the skit, the audience was completely enraptured. When the adder attacked one of the knights, causing him to draw his sword and unwittingly begin the battle that was destined to kill Arthur, the actors could swear they had never seen the other boys more intent, focused, and emotional. It looked like they were completely lost in the illusion – barely noticing that the final epic war between Arthur and Lancelot consisted of just six people. They were so into it, they might have been watching armies of thousands for all they knew.

And they won. They were the last to perform, and nobody could deny that they were the best. When the play finally ended at Lancelot's death next to the body of Guinevere, the other campers, and even the counsellors, leapt up and clapped and cheered and whistled for what seemed like forever. Standing up on to bow in front of those dozens of cheering faces must have been the best feeling Arthur had ever had! Offhand, he couldn't really think of another time he had been so happy and proud.

The other campers all began chatting loudly and excitedly about the four skits they had just watched, and there was much congratulating and jeering about each other's places in the skit competition.

"Congratulations, Team Alpha Dog! It was-a so good!" cheered Counsellor Roma, coming and clapping Arthur on the back. "Can-a we assume the inspiration came from our newest little camper?"

"It sure did, Counsellor Roma! Artie totally came up with the idea _and_ wrote the script. As soon as he suggested it, I _knew_ it was a good idea so I told everyone we _had_ to do it. And I made sure Artie wrote a script that matched my epic vision for directing the action." Arthur was sure that even this slightly self-absorbed praise was probably more than Alfred usually gave out.

"Well, it was one of my favourite skits we've ever seen. You did-a such a good job!"

With that last congratulations, Counsellor Roma went and stood in front of the plain green bed sheets which had been stretched out as a make-shift backdrop.

The counsellors knew from experience that the skits would involve more running and leaping around than the any of the small open spaces the campsite could handle. So the plays were held out in the big field where they sometimes had meetings or outdoor activities. There were no seats or stage: the campers just sat on the grass and watched as the play was put on right in front of them, with the curtain the only stage setting, though it was more to hide the backstage area from the audience.

The sun was nearly set, tinting the sky orange and dyeing the clouds a remarkable array of purples and pinks. The air was cooler, and it would be dark soon – and yet Arthur had never felt so hyper.

"All-a-right, I know you must all-a still be pumped up after your performances," said Counsellor Roma, trying to get everyone's attention. "So we'll-a let you run off all that energy or the adrenaline will keep-a you up all night." There was a cheer as the boys realised they were going to be left to their own devices for the evening. "You can run around the forest all-a want, just don't-a go too far and-a try not to get hurt, okay? Come-a back by the time it gets dark and we'll-a have a some smores ready. Sound good?"

It wasn't like they didn't sneak into the woods any old night they wanted, but they always had to be quiet about it. Today, however, they were being given full authority to run around being as loud and crazy as they wanted. Which everyone took to heart instantly.

"CAPTURE THE FLAG!" Gilbert shouted. He ripped off his hoodie and held it aloft. Ivan unwound that scarf he always wore and held that up as the flag for his team, whilst Miguel held up their scabbard prop from the skit and Mathias waved his hat in the air.

Then all four teams dashed past the backstage curtain and into the woods at the edge of the field. And Arthur, inexplicably, found himself hand in hand with Alfred.

- ~ * Summer Camp * ~ -

"Okay, Heracles and Kiku can stay here and guard the flag. Try not to get distracted guys." Kiku blushed and looked like he wanted to object, but kept his mouth shut. "Miguel, you go that way, Mattie that way. Me and Arthur will go this way."

"Okay, just try not to get distracted guys."

"W-w-WANKER!" Arthur needed to take a lesson out of Kiku's book.

Alfred dragged Arthur away, still holding his hand – hey, it had felt right at the time. They were in the middle of a war and Alfred was a hero. He was supposed to protect people. And what did you do when you were protecting someone – that's right: hold their hand.

Kind of funny that Arthur wasn't letting go. Maybe he was actually scared, Alfred thought, as he dragged the shorter boy quietly as possible through the underbrush.

He laughed inwardly at Cousnellor Roma's logic: run off all the excitement from the play by starting an intense game of night-time capture the flag. Yeah, that was bound to calm them down. Alfred felt so exhilarated: his whole body was tingling, his senses seemed to be on fire, except for his hearing which was drowned out by the thunderous beat of his heart.

It was probably that which stopped him from hearing someone sneaking up on them. There he was, clutching Arthur's hand and being a total hero spy, when suddenly a crazy Korean was making a spinning leap through the air at him! Lucky Yong Soo was such a drama queen and needed a big entrance or he and Artie would have been captured!

But as Yong Soo came launching towards them ,shouting something that sounded like "Your doom originated in Korea!", Alfred had time to grip Arthur's hand and race out of the underbrush and away from Yong Soo.

They could hear him following them, but they were both fast enough to keep some way ahead. He didn't seem to be giving up the pursuit, though, because they were chased all the way to the edge of the forest and back to the field where they had done their skits. There was nowhere to go.

Alfred made a split-second decision. "Quick, behind the stage curtain!"

A little further down the field were the bed sheets they had used as a backdrop. If Yong Soo exited the woods in the same place they had, he wouldn't be able to see them behind it – it was their best hope.

They had just managed to throw themselves behind the cover of the bed sheets when they heard Yong Soo crash out into the opening.

They stood there as still as possible, hands over their mouths to mask their loud breathing, and staring wide-eyed at the place where Yong Soo would appear if he chose to look behind the curtain.

But luckily, he didn't. Obviously figuring they must have fled back into the woods in a different direction, they heard Yong Soo crashing through the bushes and shrubs back the way he had come.

The two boys finally looked at each other, both of their eyes as wide as dinner plates and looking more terrified than the game really warranted…And they burst into silent laughter, holding their sides and covering their mouths in case Yong Soo heard them again.

Arthur was bent almost double and trying so hard not to make a noise. Alfred had never seen him so happy, except earlier at the end of the play. He had looked so proud of himself then. Not the arrogant, smug kind of proud which was always Alfred's default, though. Arthur had just looked…pleased. Pleased because others had liked what he had made for them, not that he was just self-satisfied at others agreeing he was awesome.

Alfred had stopped smiling, and was now just staring at Arthur. His body was still tingling from all the excitement and adrenaline of the evening. He felt like he could do anything and it would end up well. And he wanted to do something – he wanted to do something crazy and stupid, because it would be fun and today people wouldn't laugh at him because they all felt the same. And being "back stage", and no one around to care what they were doing…It almost felt like once the moment was over and they went back into the forest, then whatever they did right now would never have happened at all.

"Arthur, it's like having a crush on you."

The other boy stood up suddenly and stared at him. Alfred liked when he looked all shocked like that, because usually he hung his head and scowled. But when he raised his head and opened his eyes wide like that, Alfred got a good view of those…really nice green eyes.

"Wh-what?" Arthur stammered. They both seemed to realise at exactly the same time how close they were standing. Alfred really liked it, but his hands itched to reach out and touch, too.

"You feel different than a regular friend. But you also feel different from when I look at girls and think they're really hot. It's like…when I had my first crush when I was a kid and I didn't really _get_ it, because it had never happened before. I just knew it was really cool."

"Y-y-…I-I don't…"

Arthur probably didn't even know what he was trying to say, Alfred reasoned, so there was no point trying to finish the sentences in his own head.

"Do you think I have a crush on you, or am I just being stupid?" asked Alfred, genuinely wanting Arthur's input on this. I mean, _he_ was no expert! This could be anything! Just a hardcore bromance with some guy he met two weeks ago.

Arthur gulped, still staring into Alfred's eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Come on, Artie, don't make me word it differently because I honestly don't know! I just…"

Well, there was one thing he could do to try and get his point across. It might help him figure out what he wanted to say, too. Maybe doing it would let him know if this really was what he thought it was.

He reached forward, arms aching with nervous tension, and grabbed Arthur's shoulders before pulling the smaller boy against him. Boy, it felt good having Arthur pressed against him.

Slowly and spontaneously (his mind really had no control any more except to encourage him to keep going) his hands slid over those thin shoulders, up the smooth neck, and clutched at the back of Arthur's head. He had one last moment of clarity looking down into those green, green eyes, before everything in him urged "Yes", and he bent his head down and pressed their gently lips together.

Arthur kissed back. He felt it, even if just for a second.

But as soon as he felt the other boy begin to shift, Alfred pulled away, to give Arthur some space. He didn't want Arthur to feel pressured – just to understand what Alfred was trying to say. That was all.

He let his fingers drop from the soft golden hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, but didn't pull back altogether. His body couldn't bear to be without the other now, after that, so he dropped his arms and clutched firmly at Arthur's upper arms, keeping the other boy close to him.

"You don't need to freak out, I just wanted to tell you. That's all," he tried to comfort the Brit.

Arthur wasn't necessarily looking like he was _going_ to freak out, but he was radiating awkwardness, and Alfred just wanted to prevent any unnecessary panic attacks. He wouldn't feel very good if Arthur got angry over this. In fact, it would really hurt. He didn't want it to make Arthur feel wrong, or to hate him. He wanted Arthur to be okay with it…

"Have you been flirting with me this whole time? Is that what that was? Or is this some kind of _very_ unfunny joke – "

"No! Not at all!" Alfred exclaimed, torn between being excited that Arthur wasn't running away and distraught that the other boy might have treated the kiss as a joke, himself. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to let you know if I've acted weird around you it's because I don't know what to do. All the teasing and pranks the first week - I guess I just wanted your attention. And then being all arrogant and bothering you the whole time _this_ week I was just trying to get you to like me. And I didn't know the flirting was real - I thought I was just joking! But then I realised I was just _pretending _I was joking, as an excuse to get to do it. God, no wonder you thought I was a complete douche, I've been totally weird around you the whole time! I didn't even know, I'm sorry! I feel so dumb!"

"It's…it's okay. I understand it must be…confusing."

Arthur wasn't pulling out of his grip. He had leaned back a little so their chests weren't pressed together anymore, and he certainly looked uncomfortable – eyes looking anywhere but at Alfred. But at least he didn't seem to be blowing up.

But suddenly Alfred realised an implication behind what Arthur had said. '_It must be confusing.' _So…Arthur, himself, didn't know how Alfred felt…He didn't feel the same thing.

Suddenly, Alfred hurt.

He hadn't even thought about what Arthur felt. He had just wanted to make sense of what _he_ was dealing with. But now that he realised Arthur was special to him, and it seemed Arthur didn't feel the same…That really made him feel…worthless.

His heart ached so badly all of a sudden that he had to let go of Arthur's arms and clench his fists into his hoodie.

Ow. That really hurts.

"Yeah, so…" _Oh God – don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._ He really was just a big infant, like Arthur was always telling him. Letting himself feel all choked up like this. His throat really hurt. "It's no big deal. I'm just…being weird. I'll – "

He was so close to telling Arthur to forget it, he would get over it, and walking back into the forest. But a brave little part of him suddenly shone through and told him how awkward it would be from now on. God, what would it be like to wake up tomorrow and have to brush their teeth next to each other; to go on their all-day hike together and spend the whole time in awkward silence; to have everyone notice that was something was up; to have to do it over and over again for the next two weeks.

No matter what Arthur's response would be, Alfred had to put some kind of end to this now, so they could at least try and move on. Otherwise the next two weeks were going to be a living hell.

"I like you more than a normal friend, Artie. I think I really have a crush on you. I know it would be hard to…go out, or anything, while we're at camp. And then you're going back to England and everything, so it's kind of stupid to even say anything but…It would just be nice to know…do you like me like that at all?"

Arthur was breathing almost as heavily as after they had escaped from Yong Soo. His chest was visibly heaving and he was twisting the end of his t-shirt in worry and fear. It looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the spotlight like this. Funny that it was all back stage.

"Al…fred…" He looked like he was about to say whatever he had to say without even looking him in the eye. Well, Alfred was having none of that. Arthur was braver than that, whether he acknowledged it or not. Alfred wouldn't let the boy let himself down.

He placed his hands on either side of Arthur's face and gently guided the boy's head up until their eyes were meeting. Alfred was glad he had such bright blue eyes, so that maybe Arthur would have something nice to look at while he was so worried and anxious.

Hey, there it was! He had been proud of himself just because he was pleased at doing something nice for someone else.

There was no way he was letting Arthur get out of this now. He had to take responsibility for turning Alfred into a better person.

"I like you," Alfred said again, growing surer of this by the second.

Arthur looked at him for a moment, and Alfred was pleased to see it wasn't his deer-in-the-headlights stare from before. He was actually _looking_ at him. Like he cared about he was thinking, and was going to say, and what Alfred thought, and what Alfred was going to think.

"Hear me out before you pounce on me, alright?"

_Okay, that was kind of a weird thing to say_. Arthur didn't continue, so Alfred nodded his assent.

"I'm also fairly confused, and not entirely sure about everything – so don't get your hopes up, but…I also like you more than a normal friend, Alfred."

Granted, the last bit of that sentence was cut off as soon as the words "also like you" had escaped Arthur's mouth. But as soon as Alfred gathered that he had reason to be incredibly right now, he grabbed Arthur around the shoulders and squeezed him so heartily he was lifted right off the ground. And when he heard Arthur laugh and felt a pair of hands wrap around his middle (as much as they were able, since Alfred had pinned Arthur's arms to his sides) Alfred squeezed even tighter, and felt like he could win that game of capture the flag single-handed.

Right now, though, and for possibly the first time in his life, Alfred didn't care about a stupid game at Camp Hetalia.

Arthur liked him!

He said he was confused and not so sure and that he just liked him more than a regular friend. But even oblivious Alfred could tell he was just being shy. Because the fact was, Arthur liked him _even though_he had had to put up with Alfred being totally weird and obnoxious for two weeks as he figured out his crush.

So actually, Arthur must _really_ like him.

And that was just perfect, because Alfred _really _liked Arthur, too.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm so happy the ending wasn't a complete fail!

To be honest, I had no intention of carrying this AU on past today. This July was shaping up to be the busiest month of my life, because I am moving to Japan on July 30th and have SO MUCH preparation to do. As well as doing my day job, I had to pack, get bank sorted, correspond with Japanese people, master the language, ship boxes, buy new clothes...  
>And so far I have done nothing except go to an anime convention and write this fanfic! I'm a bad person!<p>

So yeah, I was going to quit after this and work on the more pressing matters in my life.

But now I really want to write more! If I get round to it, the updates will not be every day, and they will be shorter. But I really want to follow up on the little budding romance at Camp Hetalia.


	8. Hiking

Arthur was glad he had the excuse of having won the skit competition yesterday to explain away his abnormally happy attitude today.

There was really no reason for him to be _afraid_ that other people would notice he was smiling more. If anything, they would just be happy he was in such a good mood. But Arthur had grown up with three of the world's most insensitive older brothers, whose only mission in life seemed to be to tease him mercilessly about anything and everything. He had learned long ago not to give them anything that might fuel a new round of taunts and jeers – whether it be telling them he got a good grade ("Look at the clever little ponce! Wrote a pretty poem did you, princess?"), scored the winning goal in his football game ("I bet you enjoyed that – watching a bunch of sweaty boys all afternoon."), or just that his new book was interesting ("Could you try and be any more queer?").

It wasn't meant to be vindictive on their part, Arthur knew (or maybe just hoped profusely). They all mocked each other for their defining qualities, and Arthur's love of literature, sewing and the arts just happened to easily offer him up for a life-long barrage of gay jokes.

It was now just instinct to him to keep everything inside. And when he the reason he was so happy actually was a bit…gay – well, all the more reason to be nervous about people finding out the truth.

Alfred certainly wasn't helping. His constant attempts to touch him and lean in close and whisper to him – God, he was so _obvious_!

But in a way it helped. Arthur was so busy yelling at him to stop being so blatant that he didn't have time to blush and be giddy and embarrassed.

The real problem was that today they were hiking up into the mountains for Camp Hetalia's annual 'Great Outdoors Week.' Every year the boys spent one week of their summer camp out on a proper camping trip: sleeping in tents, cooking for themselves over open fires, being bitten by mosquitoes, that sort of thing. It was, naturally, a big deal for the other boys, for although they were still accompanied by a couple of camp counsellors to keep them out of _too_ much trouble, at least they didn't have any stupid debate class or model U.N. meetings anymore.

But since the entirety of day was spent hiking up Old Stone Trail to their campground, Alfred and Arthur had no time alone together. And it rather seemed to be driving Alfred crazy.

"I just wanna talk to you! Now I know I can say whatever I want and you won't hate me!"

"You mean you were holding things in before? Good God, if that was you showing some restraint then I'm not sure I'll like the _real_ Alfred at all."

"Artiiie! You don't mean that?"

One good thing about their new dynamic was that Arthur found he had more leverage when teasing Alfred. Suddenly, Alfred seemed to be taking his joking seriously.

Of course, it worked the other way around, too. Alfred could flirt as much as he wanted now, and no matter how much tried to convince the other that he did _not_ like it, Alfred now knew better.

"Sure you don't, Artie," he winked (WINKED!) at him! "Don't worry, I'll keep your little secret."

"URGH!"

"If you hate me so much, are you just in it for my pretty face?"

"WHY DON'T YOU EVER SHUT UP?"

Alfred found it all just so amusing; he looked like he was having the time of his life. And Arthur, apparently much more besotted than he would have liked, was happy that he was the one who could make Alfred smile like that. Even if it was at his expense.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed if Arthur and Alfred were a little bit closer today. Or if they did, they didn't mention it.

Which basically meant that no one had noticed, Arthur reassured himself, because if they had he would surely be getting the razzing of his life.

For now they were lagging behind the others on their hike up the dusty mountain trail, in an attempt to get some private time. Arthur didn't feel as clingy as Alfred seemed to be, but it would be nice…I mean, it wasn't so bad if they could just…walk together without worrying about everyone else.

The sun was high above them, so it must be about midday. They had to stop frequently because it was so damn hot, and Arthur could feel his skin sizzling despite his layers of sunscreen. But the sky was blue and cloudless, and the trees were tall and green, and it was exciting to be hiking up a mountain with his friends to go on a camping trip. And, well…there was a nice, fun American boy who wanted to walk next to him and laugh with him. So, for once, Arthur's heart wasn't really in his complaining.

"Look, I promise I'll be super discreet, okay, Iggy?" Alfred was reassuring him. "I feel the same way: I just wanna hang out with you, and not have to worry about everyone else bothering us. So I wouldn't say anything to the others. Not even to Mattie, okay?"

Arthur nodded, and chanced a glance up at Alfred – he tried not to look too much because he just blushed whenever he did.

The other boy was beaming down at him as usual, and Arthur couldn't help the genuine, bashful smile that spread across his face in return. Alfred grinned harder in reply, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut.

Suddenly, Alfred became alert. He looked up ahead to check that no one else was watching, and made sure nobody had fallen behind them. When he saw that the coast was clear he reached out and squeezed Arthur's hand in his. He swung their clasped hands backwards and forwards, just for a moment before letting go. It had been a really nice moment.

Arthur hadn't expected to like something so childish as holding hands, and to feel weird about doing such a thing with another boy. But instead he just found that he really wanted to do it again.

"But you know," said Alfred, trying to act casual despite the endearingly shy grin and the blush dusting his cheeks, "you don't have to worry about them hating on us for…well, since it's two guys. They're totally fine with that. They would still just be total assholes about us liking each other, and that's what I want to avoid."

"How do you know they wouldn't mind about...?" Arthur trailed off. He still wasn't that comfortable classifying this as anything – not just whether it was gay or something along those lines, but having to decide whether it was a crush, or a summer fling, or…whatever.

"Dude, pretty much everyone at Camp Hetalia is gay for each other," laughed Alfred. "If you didn't know it was such a 'prestigious international summer program'" he quoted in a mock deep, serious voice, "you'd think it was a straight camp. That wasn't doing its job properly."

"Well, a couple of people certainly seem that way inclined, but I didn't know any of them actually _liked_ each other. I mean, apart from Heracles and Kiku." Those two didn't have to run around holding hands and flirting for it to be completely obvious. "And Toris and Feliks." Those two being the 'run around holding hands and flirting - while dressed in mini skirts' sort of obvious. At least on the part of Feliks. Toris, his long-suffering friend, just sort of went with it. "But none of the other campers actually like each other, do they?"

"Antonio and Lovino? Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"What?" The perpetually angry Italian and that happy-go-lucky Spanish boy? God, if that were true, how would it even work? "Well, Lovino is pretty good at hiding it then."

"Yeah, right!" Alfred laughed. "Trust me, it looks legit if you only just met him. But having to watch those two every July for five years? It's actually just starting to get sad. Anyway, you'll see. Now that you're looking out for it, you'll see how fricking obvious it is. Besides, Lovino's just like you: he's always cranky and yelling at the guy he likes. Surely you of _all_ people can tell what's really going on there."

Arthur looked down at the path as he pondered this new development, and Alfred was happy to look around at the scenery. It wasn't like him to walk so slowly – usually he wanted to be at the front of the hike. But if it gave him some relative peace and quiet with Arthur then he could handle lagging behind for a bit.

"And Francis I assume?" Arthur said, after further thought into the matter. (He had decided not to mention his frequent observations of how Gilbert seemed to touch Matthew far more than was really necessary – and how Matthew didn't seem to mind too much, despite their jarring personalities. It was Alfred's brother, after all, he probably didn't want to know.)

"Well, duh. He's actually bi, but don't ever ask him about it. You'll hear waaaay more than you need to know."

"I can imagine," Arthur shuddered, thinking back to his first week at camp when Francis had been the only one really talking to him. "Anyone else? Feliciano is a bit…"

"Yeah, I think he has a crush on Ludwig. I know, I know," he said, as Arthur looked at him in disbelief. "They are 100% the complete opposite, but that seems to be pretty popular around here. I _think_ they're just friends at the moment, but they're definitely seriously attached to each other. And Feliciano is the only person who can make Ludwig loosen up, even a little. It's kind of hard to tell when Ludwig is loosened up, because he's pretty much the exact same," Alfred explained, seeing the look of confusion on Arthur's face. "But when you get to know him, you can see there _is_ actually a subtle difference."

"Ivan seems very protective of Yao. I heard he actually insisted on having Yao in his cabin. I didn't even know that was allowed."

"Yeah, I've never seen them do anything but they're both pretty discreet so maybe. They do seem to be really close. I know they see each other outside summer camp a lot, too. Oh, and I almost forgot Berwald and Tino!"

"What about them?" asked Arthur, completely oblivious.

"Berwald legitimately confessed that he likes Tino." Alfred looked triumphant at the expression on the British teen's face: something between a mix of shock, horror and downright fear – which was the natural human reaction to anything to do with Berwald Oxenstierna.

"I'm serious. And it was like the first day of our very first camp, too," Alfred went on. "Oh my God, it was fricking terrifying. And that was just from an onlooker's point of view – imagine how it must have felt to be Tino in that situation! Or in any situation. Berwald just refuses to give up. Says they're gonna get married and everything. Any other person on Earth would probably get a restraining order or something, but Tino is just way too nice. He's tried to just be his friend and encourage him out of it, but…I think they'll probably just have to get married."

"Wow." Arthur let himself take this all in – not quite able to wrap his head around the complete absurdity of it.

Quite unbidden, he found himself feeling happy that he had fallen for Alfred F. Jones.

The thought really came out of nowhere, so he decided to try and examine it.

It wasn't just because the boy beside him wasn't a terrifying, giant Swede; or someone really hard to deal with; or a shy and introverted loner. He genuinely liked the fact that he liked Alfred. The American (Arthur let himself take a second to be smitten and honest) was nice, and kind, and brave, and fun, and innocent, and sweet, and charismatic, and charming when he wasn't trying to be, and sometimes when he was, and despite his arrogant bravado he wasn't conceited, and he was just the most handsome person Arthur had ever seen in real life, all golden and sunny and sky blue eyes. Though he vowed that was the last time he would ever allow himself to admit that.

It made Arthur feel proud that he had fallen for someone so obviously perfect. I mean, he wasn't perfect – he was a complete moron. But there was nothing actually _wrong_ with him. He was…just fine. So if Arthur liked someone like that it meant he was sort of...sensible. He would be a good choice if Arthur had even _had_ a choice, so he was doing the right thing, wasn't he? It couldn't be wrong to like Alfred F. Jones, could it?

He looked over at Alfred, who had stopped and bent down by the side of the path. He seemed to be rummaging intently in a bush, but when he felt Arthur's eyes on him he turned around and beamed. He got up and jogged back to his friend, and, to Arthur's slight dismay, began fondling his polo shirt.

He stopped whatever he was doing, but didn't let go – holding on to Arthur by the shirt. Arthur blinked at him for a few seconds, heart hammering away as Alfred gave him an unusually gentle smile.

Arthur looked down and found that Alfred had placed a little, blue, pin-wheel shaped flower in the top button of his polo.

"A periwinkle. It means 'early friendship.' See: I learned some stuff on that riddle nature hike!"

He just looked so pleased with himself, because he knew this would make Arthur happy.

Maybe he wasn't a complete moron, after all.

Though, Arthur had no intention of telling him that.

"It's not 'learned' it's 'learnt' you git."

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, so much for: "I have to carry on with the rest of my life and stop writing fanfiction." I guess I can always master the Japanese language, pack bags, ship boxes, deliver my visa and whatnot NEXT week.


	9. Nighttime

The campers had spent the darkening hours of the day playing night games in the woods. Arthur had to admit, it was a lot of fun. Most of the games involved being quiet and sneaking up on people, and Arthur was pretty good at that. He was constantly the one causing various teenage boys to shriek in terror and run for their lives.

He wasn't actually getting to as many of the boys as he could, though, for he always tried to seek out Alfred specifically. Not necessarily because he was Arthur's…particular friend, but more because he screamed like a little girl whenever he was ambushed. It was the funniest thing Arthur had ever seen.

At the moment they were playing some sort of game where a couple of insane, inbred, cannibal hillbillies were hiding out in the forest and weren't allowed to move. The campers had to sneak into the forest and find the hillbillies – preferably without being seen – and as soon as you saw a hillbilly you had to shout out and let all the other campers know. At the sound of the shout, the hillbillies were allowed to move and try to capture the campers, whilst the campers had to run for their lives back to the campfire.

And at the moment, Arthur wasn't up to be a hillbilly. He was just a vulnerable camper.

He crept through the forest, much more nervous than he would like to admit. He couldn't see a hillbilly, but maybe a hillbilly could see him! It was so easy to fall into the sinister atmosphere of the game. And the setting was eerie just in itself. The uneven, sloping land of the mountainside made navigation difficult at the best of times, let alone in the indigo blanket of the night. And there were rocky outcrops jutting up everywhere just waiting to trip him and add more cuts and bruises to the ones he had received today.

Suddenly, there was a shout from somewhere to his right of "FUCK! GET OUT OF HERE!" And that was the cue to turn tail and race for camp.

But before he even had time to gather his wits and turn around, someone had leaped out of the bushes to his left, clapped a hand over his mouth and held him tight with the other arm so he couldn't escape.

Arthur's heart was beating fast, caught up in the paranoia of the game. And when he realised it was Alfred, smiling mischievously down at him in the dark, his heart just seemed to speed up even more. They were so close. And Alfred had his hands all over him!

And suddenly, Alfred had lowered his hand from Arthur's mouth and replaced it with his lips.

They were kissing! In the middle of a game of inbred cannibal hillbillies with their friends crashing and screaming through the forest all around them!

But Arthur only realised these minor details afterwards, because at the moment he was much too occupied enjoying this kiss.

Alfred pulled away and raised a finger to his lips to signal for Arthur to keep silent, then grabbed his hand and led him quickly deeper into the forest.

"Where are we going? Shouldn't we stay close to camp to catch the others?"

"We're taking a break from the game. Wanna show you something," whispered Alfred.

They were going as fast as they could, and Arthur didn't know why. It was like they were running away from something. Although, if they _were_, they weren't doing a very good job, because they were making a ridiculous amount of noise: crashing through the dried leaves and grass and twigs underfoot. And it was so dark they only narrowly avoided crashing into every tree that stood in their way. Really, it would be a miracle if they came out of this without a bloody nose apiece.

The sounds of the other campers chasing and escaping each other had faded, and Alfred finally slowed down into a quick-paced march. Arthur could barely see where he was going, and felt slightly stupid clutching Alfred's hand and letting the other boy lead him along through the dark forest as if he were a child. But the American seemed to know where he was going. Or at least, he was marching very purposefully now.

"Where are we going?" he ventured to ask – hoping that the aura of purpose around his friend was founded in something other than his ego.

"It's just up ahead somewhere. Wait a sec."

Arthur allowed Alfred to lead the way. He finally realised that they had been going uphill this entire time, and was surprised that he wasn't more exhausted from all the running.

"Nearly there," panted Alfred. The climb became steeper and they really had to work on trudging up the slope through the bracken – still not letting go of each other's hand.

The trees began to thin and suddenly there was nothing. Not just no _trees_, but nothing at all.

They were standing on the edge of a cliff, which plummeted down into the ocean of trees below. The forest stretched out across the little round valley, the shadows of the mountain range encircling it in safety.

It was much too dark to be able to enjoy the majestic mountain scenery, so Alfred and Arthur found themselves looking up at the sky. With no civilisation for miles, the stars were startlingly bright and clear – and abundant. Arthur was sure he had never seen so many. He could even make out the blur of the milky way, something he had never managed to glimpse in England. There were too many towns, too many people there. England didn't have places like this: an empty space so, so far from the rest of the world. It was like a little paradise of night sky and glittering stars.

Arthur felt as full and peaceful as the night sky.

Alfred broke the comfortable silence. "We've got some time, 'cause the others'll be playing that game for a while and won't notice we're missing."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you'd planned this."

"I totally did!" He could hear the beam in Alfred's voice, and almost feel it in their clasped hands. "I wanted to find somewhere we could watch the sunset. But we're on the wrong side of the mountains."

Arthur smiled at the innocent sentiment behind his friend's little forced adventure. "Alfred Jones. I didn't know you were such a romantic."

"Yeah! I love all that stuff!" Alfred grinned, squeezing Arthur's hand to prove his point.

They talked without looking at each other, heads bent back as they stared up at the sparkling white points in the dark blue dome of the sky. "You must be a hit with the ladies. I bet you have tons of girlfriends."

"Arthur," Alfred said, and the gently tone of reproach was evident in his voice. Arthur glanced at him quickly and saw that he looked offended. "I _want_ to be here with _you_. I'm _glad_ I'm here with you. I don't wish you were a girl to make it even better. And I'm not the kind of guy who goes out with loads of people at once. When I like someone, that's it for me!"

"I know! I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Arthur berated himself for accidentally letting slip some of the awkward insecurity he felt about this little relationship. He wouldn't ask, because it was so pathetic and clingy to have to say it out loud, but he really wanted to know: w_hy do you like me?_

"It's okay. I just didn't want you to think I was a player or anything." They both gave a light chuckle at such a silly notion. "Have you…um…have you ever had a crush on a boy before?"

Oh, God, Arthur didn't want to have this conversation.

Couldn't they just have _this_? Couldn't they just enjoy their little secluded world of stargazing and campfires and night games and hiking, where they could be happy and ignorant and naïve and not to have to worry about anything? Reality could catch up with them afterwards, but they had the rare opportunity to cut themselves off from the world and its consequences for a whole two weeks still. Did they have to think about this so hard?

"Because I haven't," Alfred continued, when Arthur didn't reply. The fact that he thought it necessary to mention that just made Arthur's heart ache. It was painfully obvious. Arthur worried what Alfred would think in the future when he looked back at this July and wondered what the hell had come over him when that British boy came to camp that one year.

"I assumed so," said Arthur, trying to smile. "I…I have. Um, had a crush on a guy before." The last part was almost whispered. Thank God they were still having this conversation while staring up at the sky, though Arthur barely even noticed the stars anymore he was so caught up in his thoughts.

He felt like Alfred would look down on him for what he had just admitted. Alfred was making such a sacrifice for Arthur – having to give up the easiness of being straight just for him, even though it was only for a few short weeks. Alfred was treating him like he was special – the only boy he'd ever liked. But now Alfred would think he was just another crush for Arthur. Just anybody else.

"But I've never told anyone!" Arthur said. Goddamn it, he didn't want to have to explain himself. He wanted Alfred to know he was special to him, too – but having to explain himself to make Alfred feel better just seemed so pathetic and needy. Alfred would think he was making it all up. "And I tried to ignore it. I've had girlfriends, too – I _like_ girls – so I thought I could just, you know…get on with it. But…" He didn't want to have to say this – not after just _two _short days of 'being together' or whatever they were doing. But he wanted to make sure Alfred knew he was an exception for Arthur, just as Arthur was an exception to him. "But I like you more than…anyone."

Arthur felt like the lowest of the low. Oh, Alfred was going to think he was so pathetic, being so obsessed with him just after two days.

"Me, too!"

Arthur whipped his head back to earth and stared over at the American. Alfred was staring right back at him, looking more surprised than elated, but not necessarily looking uncomfortable with Arthur's confession. "You…you don't have to say that. I know it's stupid."

"What? No, I mean it, Artie! I like you more than I've ever liked anyone, too!" Arthur hadn't noticed when they let go of each other's hands during that awkward conversation, but now Alfred grabbed him again, by both hands, so they could face each other. "I'm so glad you said that because I wanted to, so bad, but I thought you'd laugh at me!"

"So you made _me_ say it first?" Arthur cried out in a rage.

"I didn't _make_ you say it, you just said it. And…thank you for saying it. It makes me so happy. And now I know I'm not stupid for feeling the same way." Alfred's expression still showed signs of disbelief, but the excitement was starting to take over. His smile was so warm, and honest and delighted right now; Arthur thought that you could put his face amongst the twinkling stars overhead and it wouldn't have looked out of place.

"Don't look so mad, Iggy." The comment shook Arthur from his thoughts, as did the warm hand sliding over his cold cheek.

"What?" he managed to get out without his tell-tale stammer.

"You look pissed off."

"I just don't like talking about that stuff. And I had to admit something so embarrassing!"

"It's not embarrassing, 'cause I feel the same! And you were really brave saying it!"

"But…" Alfred was so close now, and Arthur lost heart in his wild, worried thoughts when he realised what they were about to do.

"I like you and you like me. That's all we need to worry about, right?"

Arthur nodded, smiling, and met Alfred halfway for a kiss much deeper than any they had shared so far.

This was a secluded world where the stars were brighter, the days were warmer, and the only thing they had to worry about was the fact that they liked each other. It was a world Arthur wanted to stay in forever.

* * *

><p>AN: Conffession: I hate fluff. I much prefer a bucketload of UST with my fanfics. And yet I find myself writing this... I apologise for being a hypocrite...

Another confession: I don't think seventeen year old boys are this sweet and innocent. The fics of teen!USUK where they are horny and rebellious are much more realistic, in my opinion. But I am not even going to attempt to write smut, so I couldn't make them the kind of seventeen year olds I think they would actually be.


End file.
